


Let me be your guiding light

by LyricaBelachium



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Body Horror, Depression, Drugs, Haphephobia, Healing, Injury, Other, Physical Abuse, Recovery, Religion, Slavery, deadlock doesn't give a damn, different ideologies, except he does, guardian and charge, hydrophobia, mentions of past sexual abuse, wing does his best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:03:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricaBelachium/pseuds/LyricaBelachium
Summary: Wing is trying to release the enslaved aliens on his own, only to find a particular surprise in their midst.In a fight or flight moment, he makes one of the greatest decisions of his life.I have no idea where I'm taking this, I know the orientation of the story, but not its end, so we'll see where it goes.





	1. Fading light

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: I have not written fanfics in a really long time, so please be kind. I'll do my best to update and keep the story interesting, I'm open to feedback and suggestions though :3

~Wing POV~

 

Wing surveyed the slave facility from a safe distance. His spark was beating with an uneasy excitement and hope, yet still allowed space for dread.

Dai Atlas was going to throw a fit when he found out what Wing was up to, but it was going to be worth it, it was going to be fine, just get in, release the prisoners, help to a ship and get out.  
These aliens had arrived some time ago, settled in canyon and had since been running their operations for months. Wing had tried to appeal to Dai Atlas to drive them off, to release the prisoners and get rid of the slavers.  
But Dai Atlas refused, he was of the opinion that they should not meddle with outside affairs, that they would only bring ruin and war to their society. Truthfully, Wing couldn't fully disagree with him: freeing the slaves would mean leaving witnesses, and its not like they could force the strange creatures - most of which were organic - to stay in their hidden city. But wing did what he felt was right: helping another was the highest calling one could aspire to.

Still it was a daunting task to do on one's own, but Wing could not be dissuaded from it, and the great sword on his back, Aequitas, agreed firmly.

Sneaking in was not difficult, taking out guards with patience and stealth, he slowly cleared the path, and eventually one of the smaller ships. He then made his way towards the control center, which was much better guarded unfortunately. That, was when he passed by one of the outside pens, or rather, a tank. Some of the slave traders were there, one of which was struggling with something, a small creature, as far as he could tell, wrapped in some kind of black plastic and bound. He frowned, trying to get a better look from his hiding spot. What were they doing with it? Were they keeping the creature out of the water as some form of punishment? Or the other way around?

One of the slave traders spoke something in their language that Wing couldn't hope to comprehend, and the one carrying the creature turned around to seemingly respond, but in that moment Wing stopped paying attention to the aliens, and instead focused on the captive: It was a young Cybertronian, he couldn't see the details very well from this distance, but he could clearly tell the metallic helm, the pointy fins, and the red optic glow.

The alien who spoke first approached the other, leaning down to grab the youngling's chin, forcing him to look him in the optics.

“You will learn your place, I will break you, and you will obey, or die under the punishments I give you.” He spoke again, this time in familiar neocybex.

The child, as far as wing could tell, glared at the slaver, and the next thing he knew, it had spat at the alien, hitting him squarely in the face.

Suffice to say the Slaver was not happy. With a growl, and what Wing assumed was a curse in their language, he yanked the child from the other, and violently dragged it to the top of the tank, where he hung the child by a hook to the binds keeping him wrapped up in that strange plastic.

Without much ceremony, and ignoring the youngling's sudden panic, the alien pushed it and let it sink into the tank, only to hang by the hook just a little above ground.

The sight of the child flailing under the liquid, likely screaming and panicking in fear was like a snap in Wing's mind. Without thinking it through, he jumped into the room, blades out and ready to take out anything that stood in his way from saving it.

* * *

 

~Deadlock's POV~

 

He'd done it this time, he knew, but he could care less. Things had never been great for him, not once, but this...this was the lowest point. Living as a slave, an object to sell to the highest bidder, for rent most the time. He'd seen it all: There were those who would rent him for labor, carrying heavy things, doing strenuous tasks that organics had a harder time with. Other times though...weren't so lucky.

To top it off, he was kept starving, his energy always low, his tank long used to the sensation of his systems trying to cannibalize themselves to keep him alive.

He often wondered how he ended up in this situation? When had things gone so far south? He knew he was troublesome, he knew he gave his sire a lot of trouble. But never had he been punished like this.  
The betrayal still stung in his spark, the look he gave Deadlock when telling him what his punishment would be: to spend Primus knew how long in a slave camp...  
He was starting to have his doubts about ever going back home. His sire certainly didn't care enough to come back for him, he hadn't so far, and Deadlock might not have been sure on how long it had been since he was taken here, but it had been long enough.  
This was no longer a punishment from his sire, this was a death sentence, a slow and cruel one.

Today though, he'd had enough, he was reaching his limit, he'd rather die than continue in this situation much longer.

The master slaved had decided to 'rent' him himself today, and that's when he'd decided enough was enough.

Now, he found himself wrapped in an accursed set of bonds he couldn't break out of, unable to defend himself. He would have shouted and even given the slave master a choice of words of his own, but his vocalizer had long since been destroyed for the purposes of keeping him from fragging off their clients. So he did the next best thing, he waited for the right moment, for that cocky slave master to get close enough, and he spat a ball of oil in his face.

Of course this only made things worse, but Deadlock didn't care anymore, the satisfaction felt too great, and if this was the end for him, so be it, there was nothing left for him but death.

He was tossed into the tank, the liquid it held was freezing cold, spreading through his frame, rapidly cooling him. It stung, his bruises and wounds made him jerk and struggle for freedom, his air vents shut to keep as much of the substance out of his systems.

He was faintly aware of a sound of alarm from outside the tank, and he tried in vain to see through the liquid, but it was blurry and his optics were starting to glitch and fail as the cold quickly took over his body.

This was it, this was truly it. He'd courted death most of his short life, but now that it was here, he had a moment of panic, a moment where he didn't want this, where he fought on instinct to survive, only to realize it was too late.

His body began to sag, he was losing feeling of his limbs, systems shut down one by one. He felt more than he heard something hit the tank, but his mind was too foggy to make any comprehensive thoughts on what might have caused it.

Slowly, it grew quieter, he no longer felt his body, and he wasn't sure when he'd gone offline, the last thing he was aware of, was his spark, fading into darkness, trying to hold on to the last bit of light it could.

* * *

 

~Wing POV~

 

 

“Hang on little one!” Wing shouted, hoping the child in the tank could hear through the liquid and the sounds of his blades colliding with metal, the gun shots erupting around his form while he dodged and weaved.

From the corner of his optic he could still detect the shape of the child still moving in the liquid, although barely. He wasn't worried he'd drown per say, Cybertronians didn't need the air, they didn't need to breathe like these creatures apparently did, but water getting in your systems could still cause a lot of damage, assuming this was water or another harmless liquid that was.

He ducked another gunshot, feeling it just barely grazing one of his fins. This was not good, it was getting out of hand. He could handle hand to hand combat, or melee weapons, but guns was just not as realistically possible to defend against when all you have is a great sword and a pair of energy blades, especially when there were more adversary with guns than with melee weapons.

Still, he could not leave now, not when such an important life was depending on him taking them out of there. He refused to leave it behind anyway, it was not just against the knight's code to leave someone in need behind, but it was especially against his own moral code.

He slid his deadly blade across another alien's stomach, ignoring the disgusting fluids that spurted out in favor of moving to his next target, using him as a shield against the next few shots.

Under his cover, he dared look again towards the tank, and saw the form immobile. His spark felt like it would shatter, fear gripped him with unrelenting force and he felt the gem of his sword crackle with the excess emotion, echoing his fears.

In a risky move, he sacrificed one of his blades, throwing it at the tank and piercing a crack into it. The liquid started pouring out, though not as fast as he would have wished.

The aliens however saw this distraction as their chance: he was one weapon down, and getting surrounded, distracted by their captive.

What they didn't expect was Wing reaching for the Aequitas, the gem crackling louder and shinning brighter upon being wielded.

The thunderous explosion of light, the flying strikes of the blade were enough to disorient and take down a large enough amount of them. Enough to make the remaining ones clumsily back away from him in fear.

He saw this as his own opportune chance.

Hurrying to the tank, he noted the small cybertronian was a mechling, probably barely into his youngling years. He floated in complete stillness, head hanging low, held only by the bonds that kept him from escaping. Most alarmingly, he saw that the top of the liquid had frozen over, and seemed to be slowly freezing its way down.

In a rush of adrenaline and panic, he wrenched his blade out of the glass, and stepped back, holding the Aequitas back for momentum before swinging it forwards, cutting through the structure.

Glass shattered and freezing liquid poured out from all sides.

Not even waiting for the water to fall all out, he rushed forwards, his feet instantly going cold from the liquid. He reached for the small form, cutting the chain he hung from and catching him. The child was freezing, his body wouldn't even shiver, it just felt cold, colder than a lifeless shell, but he could still see with a quick optic scan that he was functioning.

Alien voices warned him that his time was up, the enemy was recovering from their shock, and he could not fight with such fragile life in his arms.

Cradling it closer, Wing jumped into the air, turning on his heel thrusters and lifting off as best as he could in robot mode, soon all he was to the aliens was a speck in the sky.

 


	2. An new feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wing returns to the city with his rescue!

~Wing's POV~

Wing flew as carefully as he could, keeping the small mechling as close to his chassis, hoping his engine would help warm him a bit despite the cold winds during a flight. But it wasn't safe to go any lower...  
The mechling, started to shiver halfway back to New Crystal City, which was a good sign, at least his body was now working to heat itself up again, even if he was still freezing.  
His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts: He made it out with the kid, but he didn't release the slaves, and the slave traders were still at large, now knowing there was an adult cybertronian around, hopefully they wouldn't assume there was a settlement here and instead thing he came via a ship.  
Worse than that: what was he going to tell Dai Atlas now?! What would become of the child when he brought it home? Would he be discarded? cast out because he didn't come from their society? Surely not, it was just a child, he couldn't be more than ten vorns old!  
Still, Dai Atlas was temperamental at best...unforgiving at worse. Maybe he could ease him into the news? Prepare him with vague hints and suggestions before presenting the kid. He could probably take care of it for a while without anyone knowing. After all, how much trouble could a tiny youngling be?  
Upon reaching the city's secret entrance, he made sure to avoid any guards, he was familiar on how to do so by now, with how many times he sneaked off.  
But crossing the city with a passed out bound child freezing to death was...a challenge.  
It took him some crafty flying, and stopping at a few places to walk instead so he could disappear between buildings, but eventually he got to his apartment. Landing softly on his balcony, he set in he code for the glass door and entered, quickly closing it again and rushing to put the child down on the couch.  
For a split second he took in his features: a handsome little guy for sure, with cute and rather unusual cheek guards adorning his face, and a pointy set of fins on the back of each. his forehelm was chevroned, much like his own, although in a dark color instead.  
He sported a white and black paint job, with golden and red accents here and there, tiny fangs jutted out from under his top lip slightly.  
Shaking himself from his evaluation, he quickly unsheathed one of his blades, and carefully began to undo the awful plastic bind, releasing the rest of the body. Once that was done and cast aside, he left him briefly to go and get a towel and some blankets, along with a heating pad he usually used to relax cabling after tough work outs, but it would do the trick to warm the kid up.

He set the blanket down on the floor wide open first, then put in the heating pad in the middle. With care he moved to pick up the tiny body and set it down over it before wrapping it up in the blanket. Satisfied with his work, he picked him up again and lay him on the couch once more.

He took a step back to admire his work, satisfied that at least, when he touched the kid's plating he seemed a bit warmer, but now what was he supposed to do? Wing guessed it was a good idea to bring a doctor to him, but if he did, they would just report this to Dai Atlas. Besides, as far as he saw, there were no life threatening injuries, and only the cold was a real problem. There were bruises and injuries yes, but he could deal with what he saw.

For now, maybe it was best to just let him rest and get warm. In a while he could start preparing a meal for the both of them...He wondered though what he could feed him, perhaps a little research was in order before he started cooking. Might as well take the chance that the kid was asleep to do that.

With that in mind, he went to fetch his datapad, and brought it back with him to the couch, where he sat on the opposite side, close enough to monitor, without getting too much in the child's face.

* * *

~Deadlock's POV~

 

He wasn't entirely sure when he became aware, everything felt cold and numb, and distant, but at least, it wasn't as bad as before, his processor could actually start to think. Thinking was a good sign, no one had clobbered him on the head strong enough to make him as smart as an engine block.

But his body ached, he was numb so he couldn't quite feel the pain on a large scale, but he sensed it there, just waiting for him to register it.

Despite this, he was surprised to feel he was lying on a soft warm surface, and it smelled rather different from his cell. He wasn't quite sure what it was, it wasn't the slave camp. That smelled of several rancid things he had no names for, things organics did and left around on the floor or in corners, but stank for an eternity until finally someone remembered to put another slave to clean it all up.

No, this scent was...well he wasn't sure WHAT it was, he never felt it before, but it was pleasant on his olfactory sensors, sort of sweet, but light, not too invasive, but present.

Moving felt like an impossible task, but his curiosity was begging him to investigate where he was, and why everything was so...suspiciously nice. Deadlock didn't get nice things, he didn't deserve them.

He'd been pretty sure he was going to die by the hands of the slavers, but his spark still beat, and he needed to know why.

With much effort, he shifted a little to get in a better position, making an effort to power his optics.

He heard movement near him, as if reacting to his own, and regretted not having paid more attention to sound before.

A servo, a metallic hand touched his helm, big enough to cradle most of it back onto the soft surface it lay, someone 'shhh' ed him. He didn't like it.

He heard a voice, but his audios apparently weren't fully calibrated yet, so he couldn't make sense of the words. Instead he made an extra effort to further online his optics, shifting his head to look towards the owner of the hand:  
He was blurry, and his vision swam a little, but could faintly tell a white frame sitting near him, yellow optics...so not an Autobot, but probably not a Decepticon either...it also was NOT his sire, and for some reason, despite everything, that upset him more than anything else.  
He weakly tried to push the hand on his helmet away, well he tried to swat it really, but with how depleted he felt, its was more pathetically patting the hand than anything.  
Still, whoever was looking over him seemed to get the hint and let him go, though they still remained close by.

Deadlock wanted to tell them to go away, to frag off, but he didn't want to anger whoever was currently not being agressive towards him, and he couldn't really speak anyway, not that it would have been very coherent to begin with.  
Then, for a moment, they left, he knew they did because the surface he lay on bounced a little, rising with the lack of extra weight.  
He tried to shift his head so he could track their blurry movement, but wasn't fast enough to do so.  
Maybe they'd gone to tell their boss he was awake? Maybe they went to get his sire? Whoever they were, they were cybertronian, and he was pretty sure the slave traders didn't put cybertronians together, because he'd never seen another during his stay. That and they would never give him the level of comfort he was currently cocooned in.  
Not long after, the cybertronian returned, and kneeled down in front of him. Now that he was closer, Deadlock could make out his facial features a little better: golden optics were focused on him with a warm and caring glow, his faceplates were smooth and elegant, still quite young. His helmet was...peculiar, he'd never seen anyone wearing one like this before. He had fins on the sides of his helmet, and used whites and reds as coloration.

A kind field reached for him, offering comfort and...he wasn't quite sure how to read the other emotion, but Deadlock was having none of it, he projected his own field back, throwing all his irritation, anger and warning into it, trying to make himself as intimidating as he possibly could.

In response, the mech chuckled, his field projecting amusement.

  
Deadlock hated it all. This was not his sire, and he was acutely aware of the lack of a Decepticon badge, though on the bright side he didn't have an Autobot one either.  
He blinked when he realized the mech was holding something out for him, and upon focusing his optics a little more on it, he realized it was a cube, a warm looking delicious energon cube....when was the last time he'd seen one? The slavers only fed him alternatives which, sure they kept him alive, but were just not the same, especially on his growing body.  
He tried to reach for it, his servo shaking with the mere effort, his whole arm felt like it weighed ten times the usual, and it was with anguish that he realized he didn't have enough strengh to grab it. So that was this guy's game then, torture by temptation.  
He frowned in frustration, letting out a small growl to show just how displeased he was with this.  
The mech taunting him though blinked, and a soft smile bloomed on his face before he moved closer.  
Before Deadlock could protest, he was lifted slightly off the wonderful surface he lay, only for the mech to sit in that spot, and awkwardly move Deadlock to rest the top part of his body on his lap. Then, without a word, a hand helped him hold his helm up while another brought the cube back to him.  
Was he....was he feeding him? He was no sparkling! He could feed himself! Well, usually anyway. He made a few noises of protest to show just how much he was against this, but then the sweet aroma of the energon reached his olfactory senses, and he could care less.  
As the cube was tipped to his lips, he eagerly awaited the first drops, and boy was it blissful when the first ones made their way down his intake. Who cared if he looked like a sparkling? He needed the fuel, and it felt wonderful.  
It might even have been his starvation, but he could have sworn the energon tasted sweeter than the usual blend he got from his sire.

Perhaps it was the warmth and comfort, perhaps it was getting a tank nearly full again, but halfway through the cube Deadlock felt his systems demanding a power down, his body getting heavier. There was a distant sound too, soft and lulling him further into recharge, it came from the mech holding him, and...it was nice, he loathed to admit it but he liked what the stranger was doing to him. He'd have to be careful in the future, but for now, recharge demanded to take over, and Deadlock was all too glad to let go of real life's pains and exhaustion in exchange for blissful rest.

* * *

 

~Wing's POV~

 

He hadn't expected the kid to wake up so soon, perhaps it was his need for survial that did it. But Wing couldn't help but marvel when that tiny form began to shift awake, those ruby colored optics onlinning, even if the lenses seemed to be rather unfocused and groggy.

Now he partially held him in his lap after a short feeding session, dozing peacefully against his plating, clinging for warmth.

He hadn't fueled enough for wing's liking, but he supposed it was the best he could manage for now, he would try to feed him the rest later.

Right now, he just wanted him to feel safe and comfortable, he would lightly pet his helm, notecing the head fins to be particularly sensitive to touch, having shown a rather large range of emotion when he had been awake.

He regreted not having freed the rest of the slaves, but circumstances were as they were. He would try again at another time. Not soon, unfortunatly, but he would try again for sure.

Right now they were too alert, and he had this youngling to take care of. It hadn't escaped his optics when he'd been wrapping him up that he had a badge, so it was a safe bet to assume he was a war child.

What a cruel fate it was, to be born during such trying times, to grow up in them and be put INTO the factions that so blindly destroyed their civilization.

Perhaps, despite the horrid circumstances, it was a good thing he ended up in slave trader's hands, maybe it was good that Wing found him. At least now, he had a chance to live in a peaceful society, like any child should, instead of dying in some far off battlefield, away from their home planet.

Looking down at that little faceplate, twitching a little in his sleep as if he were dreaming, Wing couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness, of wanting to set things right for him. He craddled the helm a little closer to himself, as if offering that comfort would abate this newfound need a little, but instead he only felt it stronger.

And he realized in that moment, that he would do everything in his power, to make sure this little one would get a chance at a happy, healthy life.


	3. A tiny bit of brightness

~Deadlock's POV~

The next time awareness returned to Deadlock, he was still feeling rather comfortable, even more so, if that were ever possible. He was warm, and surrounded by softness, and there was a never ending field that kept projecting safety, warmth, and that something else he couldn't quite place.

His systems booted a lot better and faster this time around, so he managed to online his optics pretty easily, and focus them on his surroundings. He was in a darkened room, on a berth, an actual, real berth, so soft he wondered what kind of material it was made from. Even back home, berths weren't this luxurious, and if they were, he certainly wasn't allowed to be on them.

Next to him, was the mech from earlier, now he could see him clearly. He was asleep, or at least looked as much, with one arm draped over deadlock's form, cradling him close. Deadlock however frowned, he was not at all comfortable being close to this mech, sure it was comfortable, and he was out of the slave camp, but he wanted NOTHING to do with this guy. Who knew? maybe he was just playing nice to get something out of Deadlock.

Ever so carefully, he began to shift away from him, worming out of the hold and pulling a pillow after him to put in his spot under the mech's arm.

His body was still hurting, but he could handle it, it wasn't in the worst state it had ever been. He was fairly sure he could even fight if he really needed to.

After making sure the mech would not wake with the new substitute. he carefully crawled to the edge of the berth and got off, only to sway a little on his feet. Okay so maybe he wasn't back to 100%, his head was a little foggy and he did feel a little off, but still nothing too aggravating.

So first thing's first: he needed to find a weapon. Something to defend himself with. Looking around the room however, he bitterly noted that the only weapons he could find were blades, and all were on mounts on the wall far too high for him to get. He could potentially drag around a chair to get them, but that was risking a lot of noise when he could still explore outside the room and potentially find something else, besides the mech would notice one of those missing straight away.

Sneaking across the room, he approached the door, and noted the lock was not activated, hm...it was almost suspicious how easy it was to get out...

Carefully he made the door open manually, only opening a crack and slipping out before closing it again. He was now on a hallway, clean and nicely decorated, well, he figured it was nice anyway, he didn't understand much of those things. His sire didn't tend to decorate the walls with much other than guns.

With silent pede steps, he approached the first set of doors, and found it led to some kind of common area, with a comfortable looking couch, a large vid screen in front of it with a small table in between, on the left was an odd corner, full of cabinets and strange devices and the only item he recognized: an energon dispenser, though that too, looked a little odd.

There was also a glass door, leading to a balcony on the right side of the room, past the couch area. He had to keep  himself from rushing to it, as it was potentially his best way of escaping.

Once close enough, his optics widened at the sight of the outside: a large...base? It wasn't quite the same, but there were buildings, magnificent looking, tall and proud, shinning, so unlike anything he'd ever seen. against the glass droplets of some sort of liquid kept falling, then sliding down, getting everything wet and cleaning away any dust that would have gathered outside.

He looked up to the lock, and frowned when he saw it was indeed engaged, so no getting out through there for now, besides, it looked pretty high up and Deadlock wasn't exactly a flier...

He returned back to the rest of the apartment, checking out the storage furniture in that strange corner of the room, he found several weird packets of ...he wasn't quite sure, but the scents kind of suggested they were edible.

After a while of searching, he came across his first potential weapon: a knife. clearly not meant for battle, but it would do if he really needed to use it, so he stashed it carefully in his subspace.

He proceeded to leave the room and try another door this time.

This room he recognized as well, though once more, there were some changes. It was a wash rack, it had the typical stall, washing products, more than he'd ever seen really, a drying rack, and a sink with some counter space and a mirror above.

The new peculiarity was a giant hole on the ground, big enough to fir a regular sized mech or two in it, for now Deadlock avoided it. Instead, he raided the cabinets under the sink, where sure enough he found a first aid kit. Taking only what he needed, he stashed some more items into his other subspace. One could never be too safe after all.

 He put the rest back the way he found it, and moved off to the stall, he might as well get some cleaning solvent as well he figured, so he walked around the hole and stared up to the shelf high above him that had the bottle he wanted, he pondered for a moment how he was supposed to get it.

"Find anything you need?" 

The voice was so sudden and unexpected Deadlock made to jump and turn around, but realized with a sickening feeling that he forgot about the hole, which is exactly where he attempted to jump and turn into, so the next thing he knew, he fell in, completely unprepared he didn't get to pull his arms forwards to protect himself and hit the bottom face first.

He vaguely heard the mech above curse something really quick, before rushing over to the edge of the hole.

His audios were ringing from the impact so it took him a moment to realize he was being talked to directly.

He belatedly noted as well that he was coming down into the hole with him, and on instinct sprang back to his feet and backed away into a corner, hissing as best he could in warning, trying to tell him to back off. This was not good, he did not like being stuck in a hole with a stranger.

Surprisingly, it seemed he got the message across, and the mech actually cared. He stopped where he stood, and although they were still far too close, he at least wasn't making a move to come closer. He held his hands up in a sign of peace.

"Its okay, I mean you no harm. Did you hurt yourself? That's all I need to know." His field projected worry, protectiveness, care. But Deadlock wasn't buying it, none of it. 

He eyed him suspiciously, narrowing his optics in distrust.

The mech let out a frustrated vent, looking at a loss for a moment.

"Do you even understand what I'm saying? You should be old enough to talk by now..." Deadlock snorted at that, indignation, of course he knew how to talk! He wasn't a sparkling! "Ah, so you do understand what I'm saying." He smiled a little. 

Deadlock was carefully palming the wall behind him, trying to check for any good grips he could get to climb out of there and run away, but it all felt like one straight slab and slippery even.

"Please, I just want to make sure you didn't get hurt. let me just check you over? Then I can help you out of the tub." He begged once more, making a move to get closer. Deadlock hissed at him again, adding even a snarl this time and he hesitated, but after a moment he tried again, and Deadlock felt very tempted to take out the knife, but this was the wrong time for this. He was too close, and stuck in this 'tub' as the mech called it.

He eyed the servo that came closer to his face, his optic twitching at the closeness, but he allowed the mech to touch him and turn his head a little to inspect the side that hit the floor.

"That's it, good mech. Hm...doesn't seem like you got much more than a tiny dent to your fin, that should heal on its own pretty easy." Yeah, it would, but it still hurt like the pit when one of his fins got dented or bent, he had a lot of sensors in those.

To his credit, the mech backed off a little, smiling down at him with an infuriating warmth. Why was this guy so happy? What was his game. Deadlock didn't trust smiling mechs, they were usually insane or had some hidden agenda, he was much more comfortable with the angry yelling ones.

"My name is Wing." The mech presented himself "I rescued you from a slave camp yesterday. I'd like to help you get healed and back on your pedes, if you will allow me." He waited a moment, as if expecting Deadlock to say something, but all he did was give the mech angry suspicious glares. "So...do you have a designation?"

Again, Deadlock only gave him glares. Even if he could talk, he wasn't about to tell this mech who he was. Every information was precious, and he should give none away.

"No? Hm, well I can't keep calling you little mech all the time though." Darn right he couldn't, Deadlock would really pull that knife out if he kept doing it. "But perhaps we'll leave it for another time hm? How would you like to get out of this tub and get some nice warm energon hm?"

At this Deadlock couldn't help it, he had to give a small nod, he did really want to get out of this horrible tight space.

"Okay then, but I'm going to have to pick you up for that, is that all right?"

It certainly was not! Deadlock shook his head vehemently, he was not okay with being picked up like a sparkling!

The mech frowned a bit at this "I'm sorry but that is the only way I can get you out of here. I promise I will not harm you, I have no reason to do so."

Deadlock looked at him up and down for a moment, frowning, he wasn't wrong but...yeah that could work.

He carefully shifted to make a movement with his servo, signaling for the mech to turn around. Wing looked surprised, but actually did as told, turning around. Oh how easy it would have been for Deadlock to take out his knife and plunge it in the mech's back...but...maybe that wasn't the best idea. He didn't know where he was, and if he was willing to trust him with his back so easily, then maybe he really didn't mean to hurt Deadlock. He wasn't about to trust him, but at least he felt a little safer. Taking a deep vent, he gathered some tiny bit of courage, and ran at the mech's back and took a leap.

Wing let out a startled yelp, but Deadlock was quick to climb up his back and jump off and out of the accursed 'tub', quickly running as far away from it as he could.

"Well, I guess that's one way to do it..." Wing said, sounding amused as he made to get out of it himself. "Feel any better?"

Reluctantly, Deadlock nodded a little, not taking his optics off the other, keeping his stance at the ready, he hadn't quite realized it before, but after a jump like that he was really feeling how tired his systems were.

"Good...good..." He seemed to think for a moment. "Look, I realize you're scared, and you won't trust me easily, I get it, I would probably be the same if I had gone through what you have, but I promise, I will help you, all right? No one will ever harm you again under my care, I'd give up my spark before letting anyone hurt you again. Are we clear? It might take me a while to make you accept it, but I fully intend to work on it over time." He sounded honest, his field felt that way as well. But still Deadlock couldn't allow himself to trust.

He let out a disappointed vent when he got no answer once more, and looked away for a while. 

"Come on, I promised you some energon. I'll heat you some."

He made to leave, and stopped only at the door to look back, expecting Deadlock to follow.

After a few moments of waiting, Deadlock finally gave in, following, but keeping a wide distance between them, wide enough to not be in grabbing reach. This seemed to satisfy Wing, as he led the way back to the common area, and into that strange little corner Deadlock had been investigating earlier.  
He watched as Wing didn't immediately go for the dispenser, and instead went around gathering some of the containers with weird powders and chunks in them, setting them all up and onto a slab of metal. He then went to dispenser and apparently set it up for  heating then turned back to the slab with the ingredients. Deadlock carefully climbed onto the tall stools on the other side of the counter, so he could watch a bit better.

Wing reached for one of the cabinets, only to stall and frown. Deadlock felt his lines run cold, it was the same one where he got the knife from.

"That's strange..." Wing said "I could have sworn it was here...maybe I left it in the washer..." he turned to check on of the machines, and Deadlock was starting to feel panic now. He had a small window, should he put the knife back while Wing was distracted? Or keep it and feign ignorance?

He really didn't want to lose the knife, it was his only defense, but if Wing caught him with it now, he would both not be able to use it now, or ever. Where as if he put it back now, maybe he could steal it again later.

Making up his mind just in time, Deadlock reached into his subspace and took it out, quietly leaning over the counter to set it down not in the cabinet, but by the slab. Maybe wing would think he just misplaced it that way.

Wing turned around just as he settled back in his seat, and saw the knife at the counter, he looked surprised, and looked towards Deadlock the next instant, who feigned looking clueless.

"Hm. " He said, coming back to his work and grabbing the knife, inspecting it "guess I must have already taken it out. Sorry I'm not used to cooking at this hour, I promise to be more careful with where I leave my knives from now on." He said, starting to cut the food he'd taken out into tiny pieces. 

Weather or not he realized Deadlock was responsible for the knife, he wasn't sure. The way he'd said that could be read in both ways, but that just meant he was going to have to be a lot more careful around Wing. His sire wouldn't have really cared, unless it was one of his knives, but if it were someone else's, he'd actually be proud for Deadlock stealing it. 

He watched in silence as Wing continued to chop many different things with accuracy and skill, he was far too familiar with the blade, too skilled. He'd hoped at first that all the swords and knives in the room earlier were just a sign of a bot who collected those, after all they were kind of frowned upon in the army, but no, the way he held a simple kitchen knife, that wasn't just a collector, that was someone who had practice and ease.

"I hope you like it sweet, you seemed to enjoy it a few hours ago when I helped you drink... its more my own preference, so most of what I have is to make energon sweet, but if you want anything more spicy, or even bitter I guess, I can get it for you later?" Wing suggested, briefly looking up from what he was doing.

Deadlock cocked his head to the side a little, one of his fins always up in alert, but he was mostly relaxed now, just interested in watching.

"Hm...maybe you're not sure what you mean, I might be wrong but I guess I can't really see war mechs cooking anything fancier than a regular cube out of a dispenser huh?"

Well how else were they going to drink their energon? This mech was strange indeed.

"Over here, we're far away from the war, its peaceful." Wing continued "We don't have a huge variety, since we don't do trades, but we have enough to satisfy the regular bot. So we get some extra time and resources to do some more refined cooking of our energon." He explained, moving off to get the energon when it pinged that it was heated enough. He brought over two cubes and set them down, proceeding to dump some of the chunkier bits in them equally. They began to dissolve a little, but it was a slow progress. He powdered the top with something else and using a ...what was it a stick? Well using a stick, he stirred it until it began to make a fluffy foam on top.

Finally, he picked a different powder, and added that one on top of the foam, it had that sweet sent he'd felt earlier when he was half asleep and had been fed.

"There we go, ah! Hold on!" he rushed to  a different cabinet drawer, and pulled out something Deadlock had not seen in a really, really long time: a straw. Though this one was weird as it made little irrational swirls.

Wing set one down on each of the cubes. "There, all done. How about we take this over to the couch, hm? We can watch the vidscreen for a little bit." He suggested, already taking the cubes.

Deadlock followed, although wearily. He set the cubes down on tiny little mats on the table, he then grabbed a remote and turned on the vid screen, flipping through different channels until stopping on a strange one he for some reason felt appropriate. " Feel free to start on yours, I'll be right back all right? I just need to clean the kitchen first."

Only after he gave a small nod did Wing go off, likely to check if any other knives were missing if he suspected Deadlock at all.

Not wanting to raise any more suspicions, and actually feeling quite hungry, Deadlock moved to the far side of the couch, closest to the window and grabbed one of the cubes, hesitantly taking the straw to his lip plates. He watched as the liquid slowly swirled its way up the straw, it was slightly amusing to watch until it finally reached his glossae.

It was like the floor was taken from underneath his pedes, as the rush of sweet bliss filled his mouth. He had been a little too out of it last time, so now he realized just how different the drink was from his usual. He'd never fueled on something so wonderful, and he couldn't help the purr of his engine or his fins twitching low in contentment. 

He heard a chuckle from the kitchen, but he could care less right now, he was enjoying the pure goodness of this drink. Maybe Wing was worth sticking around for just because of the wonderful drink he could make.

He didn't seem like a terrible mech so far, he'd been treating him, and respecting his boundaries for the most part.

So while he cleaned, Deadlock sat there, nursing his drink and pretending to watch the vid screen, all the while actually observing Wing some more, and pondering: perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea to hang around Wing for a while...

 

 

 


	4. An enlightening interaction

Wing didn't take too long cleaning up. To be fair there wasn't a lot TO clean, but he still took longer than he should have, checking every cupboard and every drawer he had, and manually setting in discrete locks on their mechanisms. He didn't exactly want to accuse a frightened child of thievery, but he was pretty sure the kid had taken the knife earlier. He would have to be a little more careful.

 Once he was done, he made his way back to the couch, softly sitting down the opposite end from his guest and taking his own cube, noting with some satisfaction the little one's cube had been completely drained of its contents.

"Was it good?" he asked, taking a sip of his own and smiling when he nodded a bit shyly, inching as best as he could to the other side of the couch. He set his drink back down for now, taking a vent in to gather his courage, he was going to need it to deal with this.

"So, we're going to have to talk about a few things...about how this is going to work, all right?" all he got was a shrug of the shoulders, and a look of disinterest. Though he doubted the child really didn't care about his circumstances. "First of all, I want to be clear: I rescued you from the slavers, but...I haven't exactly told anyone I brought you here yet, so for the time being, we're going to avoid having anyone see you. It will come eventually, but I want to prepare them a little better for you, and I'd like to have you a bit more healed up." Another shrug. 

"I'd like to ...I'd like to make this work, if that's okay with you? I want to help you get better and ...I guess if you want to stay, I can help you get settled, and if you have anyone out there you need to return to...well I'll try and find a way to get you back to them."

At this the child looked at him oddly, tilting his head, he wasn't sure what it meant, the fins twitched a little as if trying to detect something. His field was a mystery to Wing, unless he was asleep, it was like there was no field. It was pulled in so tightly Wing could barely notice it, it was odd and discomforting, but he just saw it as something he would eventually have to gain enough trust for. In contrast he made sure to project his own field often with sensations of safety and love.

 He cleared his vocalizer box, straightening a little and breaking out of his thoughts. "Anyway, I'd like a name to call you by fist. It doesn't have to be your real one if you're not comfortable giving it, but at least something so I don't keep calling you 'kid' or 'little one'" He noted with some satisfaction that the examples were enough to displease and motivate the mechling to agree with a silent nod.

"Okay, so, what would you like?" 

The mechling looked at him oddly again, then seemed frustrated with something, opening and closing his hands into fists as if trying to grasp something.

"What's wrong?" 

He puffed his cheeks, letting out a vent of hot air, his every distrustful ruby optics glanced away and then back at wing, and then his lips parted to say something but instead he was quiet... he growled, reluctantly looking away.

"Like I said, you do not have to give me your real name. It can be a made up one." He tried to encourage.

The mechling shook his helm, as if to tell him that was not it, and hesitantly lifted a hand and pat his own throat, as if signaling for it. Realization dawned on Wing, and he frowned in worry.

"Is something wrong with your vocalizer? Did they do something to it?" The mechling nodded, looking uncomfortable with admitting it, especially when Wing hissed, looking rather distressed.

"That's...that isn't something I can fix myself, we will need a doctor to fix it...does it...does it hurt?"

The mechling shrugged, waving his hand in a 'so so' motion.

"I'm not sure I'm satisfied with that answer...hmm.. hold on, I might have a solution for this problem. Wait here." Wing told him, before getting up from the couch and rushing off out of the room. He really only took a short moment to go into his office, grab an empty datapad and a stylus and making his way back. "here we go, you can write what you want to say with this for now." he offered it to the young one, who took it with the typical hesitance.

"So, maybe let's start with your name? Or the one you want? Can you write that?"

With another small nod, Wing watched as he scribbled something on it, very, very slowly. He stopped, and stared at what he wrote for a long moment before flipping the datapad to show Wing.

"Ah...Drift, that sounds like a lovely name. So Drift, I'm going to ask again, does your voice box hurt?"

Drift blinked, and turned the datapad back to himself, erasing his new name from it and beginning to write his next answer. Wing waited patiently, it was clear he wasn't used to writing, but that was all right, at least they were communicating now.

When the datapad was flipped, he had to strain to read the shaky hand writing.

 "Some times. When speak it hurts" Ah, so, he was not only dealing with a temporarily mute child, but also one that was almost illiterate if his struggle was anything to go by.

"So it hurts when you try to speak? correct?" another small nod "all right then, let's try and avoid that for the time being. I'll see about finding someone to look at your injuries tomorrow when I go to work. Which is what I was going to bring up next: I'll be leaving you alone in my apartment for a few hours, will you be okay if I do that? It's really important that I go, but I hate to leave you alone here." he got a small nod this time "Good. You can sleep, or watch the vid screen, or read something if you'd like.

My next questions though, are a bit sensitive: they're regarding the place you were at, and how you ended up there. Can we talk about that?"

Drift looked uncomfortable, squirming a little in his seat.

"Its okay to say no. We can leave it for another time, where you're more comfortable with it."

Drift looked a little surprised, but took it all too gratefully. He clearly wasn't ready to talk about it.

"Do you have anyone out looking for you then? Creators? Guardians?"

Again, that hesitance, that unease. The mechling started writing again, looking more uncertain the longer he took, but eventually he turned the datapad around again.

"Maybe? Sire out there"

"Ah, good" Wing couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed, but he quickly stomped down that emotion, he shouldn't feel this way about the child not being parent less. "and you're sure he wasn't in the slave camp as well?"

This time it was his turn to be surprised as Drift snorted, looking displeased. He quickly erased the previous message and scribbled faster than all the other times "Yes" That was unusual...was there bitterness? Was he mad at his Sire? Mad perhaps that they hadn't rescued him?

"Okay, I think that might be enough for tonight. It's getting late, and we both need recharge." He noted how Drift's frame sagged a little, relief evident in his young faceplates. He made to give back the datapad, but wing pushed it back to him.

"Keep it, so you can communicate whenever you need to. You never know." He told him, trying to give one of his most reassuring smiles.

He moved off the couch, picking off Drift's empty cube, and his own, drinking the rest of it as he made his way to the kitchen to put them in the sink to clean the next morning.

"Anyway, we really should go back to recharge, you still look like your systems are a bit off with their temperature regulations. I don't want you getting any sicker."

He turned around to find that Drift had already gotten up and was standing there on the kitchen with him, startling him. He was a quiet one, hm, a useful characteristic sure, but Wing was going to have to pay more close attention to him. 

"Ah, good, you're ready, come on then." he said, leading the way, turning off the vid screen and heading back towards his room.

Drift kept a safe distance from him, but didn't complain and he followed, holding the datapad close.

He closed the door behind them as Drift made his way in the room, looking uneasy at the berth.

"I'm afraid its the only one I have in the house, so we have to share, but it should fit us both fine to be comfortable. Come on" He made to pick him off the floor, but Drift quickly turned, pushing him away with a squeak and retreated as far from him as he could, back against the corner of the room. "Hey, hey...its okay, I'm sorry I might have come off too forward. I just meant to help you onto the berth."

Drift hissed at him, it was like all the trust he'd just built vanished.

"Please forgive me? I promise not to do that again without your permission. All right? lets just get on the berth and get some rest, you look exhausted."

Ever so slowly, Drift began to move away from his corner and to the berth, never turning his back to Wing. It hurt to see so much distrust, but Wing would not judge him for it. It was natural to be scared and distrustful. He just wishr he could crush those emotions and replace them with good ones. But things didn't work that way, he would have to work hard to gain Drift's full trust.

Slowly, the mechling started climbing the berth, looking like he was a natural at such things. He got back under the sheets and grabbed the blanket he'd been bundled in initially, wrapping it around himself. 

Wing made his way to his spot on the berth, watching as Drift stiffened a little, observing him intently in turn.

He merely gave him smiles, and enforced his field with the repetitive emotions of safety, love, affection. It did little, but it was enough to get him to settle down, Wing taking the other half of his wide berth.

There they lay for several minutes, Wing pretending to ignore the mechling by shutting off his optics, and Drift watching him as intently as he could before the light from his own optics began to dim, his optical covers slowly drifting closed until eventually he succumbed to sleep, only then did Wing dare to pull him close, inspecting him briefly for any new injures, glad the only alarming thing he found was that Drift's temperature was still a little cold, but nothing too concerning yet, hopefully he would warm up during the night.

Relieved at last, he finally relaxed and shifted into his own recharge, just enjoying that lasting feeling of holding the younger life against him.

* * *

The next morning Wing found himself rushing back and forth. He had woken up to find Drift was actually worse. The mechling had still been asleep, and his frame while still very cold, had his helm burning hot with the strain his processor was under and his vents were currently overworking themselves.

It wasn't quite an emergency yet, but it would be, soon.

He had to risk it, he had to leave him alone for a few hours while he went to work. Maybe he could coerce RedLine to come for a visit, just to hand out, and then reveal Drift when he they got home? He tried to formulate his plan a little better while he set up the house a bit more,  putting away anything he thought could be dangerous for the mechling.

He quickly prepared some energon, and came back to his room to set it on the night table. Drift was still in the same position, huddled in the blankets, his vents wheezing. Wing moved to lie next to him, gently shaking the mech a little until those ruby optics onlined, exhaustion was written all over his little features.

"Hey...I have to go to work now, but I left you some energon over there for when you get hungry, okay? You can move around the apartment, but I'd really recommend you stay in the berth." Drift opened and closed his mouth, as if he'd forgotten he couldn't speak for a moment. Wing gave him a reassuring smile, gently petting the top of his helmet, he was too tired to move away or argue so he just took it."Try and rest, I left a number on your datapad you can call on the intercom in case of emergency, hopefully you won't need it. I won't be away more than a few hours, so be good. I might come with a doctor to check you over if I can manage." he readjusted the blanket a little better so no heat could escape and watched as Drift shivered a little before curling into himself, in an attempt to go to sleep.

"I will see you later then." he gave him one last pat on the helm before getting up and leaving the room.

 The trip from his apartment to Temple of light was short, he didn't live very far, after all, knowing he dedicated his life to that of a knight, it made sense to stay close by.

His work, consisted mainly in training some of the younger knights in the more advanced hand to hand combat, assist with temple duties such as cleaning, praying, setting up rooms, and then there was also his political responsibilities: over the years Dai Atlas had been pushing to make him more and more part of running things. But Wing was not particularly interested in this, mostly due to the fact that he and Dai Atlas couldn't agree on a lot of their political views.

He was hoping to avoid those duties today in particular, and offered to help with cleaning the medbays, because cleaning those always took everyone a lot of time, which meant they usually were excused from further duties.

Of course the other reason was so he could grab Redline for a 'casual' drink. RedLine was a younger medic, but with enough experience to be trusted on his own, he was also one of the knights whom Wing would casually hang out with every once in a while. He was more the stay at home and be comfortable kind of company as well, so inviting him over to his place wouldn't sound too strange.

He was wondering how to best approach the mech while he cleaned a cabinet and the other sat on a desk reading some reports, when it was he in fact who spoke up first.

"So, Wing, its been a while since you've stopped by...have you had your check ups recently?" Redline asked without looking up from his report.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I had one a few weeks ago, nothing to note really."

"Yeah? That's good, you look a little stressed though"

"Ah..." shoot, maybe his nerves were showing too much, the entire time he'd been working he kept worrying about Drift left all alone in his apartment and suffering from his frame. "I guess I am a little. You know how it is, Dai Atlas has a way to push my buttons and all" he excused himself.

"I guess I can see that yeah." Thank Primus Redline bought it. "Is that why you picked this task for today? To avoid him?"

"Haha...you got me. Actually, I also kinda just like doing something that doesn't demand my processor as much for a while you know? And well, its been a while since we hung out, and I was going to ask if you were interested in coming over after shift for maybe a drink and a movie or something?" 

"Huh.." Redline responded thoughtfully "I guess it has been a while, sure. I could use with some socializing myself."

"Cool, so after we're done then?"

"I guess so."

Wing inwardly cheered, he had his doctor, now he just had to figure out how he was going to tell him the true reason for the invitation, and how to convince him to keep quiet.

* * *

Wing and Redline flew over the city, casually chatting about this or that, things that Wing was usually into. He was a chatty mech by nature, but today he wanted nothing more than to tell RedLine to shut up and fly faster. He was a good mech, he really was, nice and caring, if a bit of a loner. It was Wing who was being impatient and nervous. It had been a lot of hours today, a lot of hours where Drift was by himself in the apartment.

They landed on Wing's balcony, and he was relieved for a moment that Drift was no where in the living room.

"Come in, make yourself comfortable" He offered, locking the balcony door behind them.

"Thanks. So..do you have any ideas for what we're going to watch, or are we just picking something at random?"

Wing had to bite his bottom lip, feeling guilty for deceiving his friend, for taking his free time, but this was a necessity.

"Actually, Redline...I..." Redline turned to look at him, his smile falling when he realized how nervous Wing was.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked, his medical posture jumping back into action.

"I need your help...I couldn't say anything back at the temple...and I NEED you to keep quiet about this..."

"Ohhh no...Wing what did you do? Did you do something embarrassing?" Redline asked, covering his optics as if to shield them from Wing's embarrassment.

"I, well no, nothing embarrassing-"

"So it's something Dai Atlas would disprove of then." He finished for him.

Wing could only nod meekly, and he let out a resigned vent.

"What is it then?"

"I...have someone here, in need of medical help. But I need time to get Dai Atlas used to the idea. He can't wait though, he's sick and I don't know what to do." He tried to explain, watching as his friend briefly glanced to the door that led tot he hallway.

"Is 'he' in your room?"

"Um...yeah ...but-wait!" RedLine was already heading out of the living room, and Wing had to rush to follow him. "He's REALLY, really frightened okay? He went through a lot, I can barely touch him without him running away and hissing at me."

"Where the pit did you find him anyway? Please tell me its not an organic"

"He's not. He's cybertronian, and...I...can't tell you where I found him..."

"Wing...if I'm going to treat this guy, I need to know."

"Okay okay, fine, I rescued him from the slave traders outside the city..."

"The sla- WING!" He nearly shouted, realizing his own mistake and hissing it out instead as aggressively as he could. "What were you thinking?! Dai Atlas will have both our heads!"

"He will have my head, I won't let you take any of the blame for this don't worry." He reassured "Now, try not to startle him, I had to leave him alone all these hours, so I kinda hope he didn't make a mess..."

"A mess is the least of our worries right now.." Redline said, following after him into the room.

Wing was pleased to find everything where he left it, except for Drift, who had moved on the berth to lie on Wing's side of it, in a nest of blankets, covers and pillows. His cube had been emptied, which was a good sign at least.

He approached with quiet steps, projecting his field first so as to not startle Drift.

A dim ruby red optic onlined, looking up at him from his cocoon of warmth, he didn't look any better.

"Hey there Drift, I'm back, and I brought a friend. He's a doctor, and I'd like him to look you over okay? See if he can help you feel any better?" Drift shifted with a low buzzing sound of annoyance, disappearing under the covers. "Come now, its for your own good. Don't you want to feel better? to have all those injuries healed and your voice box fixed?" Another buzzing sound, this one, despite not having any significant meaning, had a definite rude tone to it, as if he were telling him to frag off.

Wing sighed, gently moving aside some of the sheets so he could see Drift's face under there, sporting a grumpy pout and bleary optics.

"Drift...please? I'd really like to help you, and I need you to tolerate RedLine for a little while, I'll be close by the entire time okay? He won't harm you at all, I'm fairly certain he's incapable of such." He turned to look back at his friend, only to find him staring, with his lower jaw slacked.

"Redline?"

"You found a youngling?! In the-" he cut himself off. "Okay, okay, I can see why you're being so secretive, let me have a look at him..."


	5. Into the dark

"Just...take it slow Redline, he's really jumpy." Wing advised, stepping aside to let the doctor inspect the mechling.

When Redline got close enough to begin a scan, Drift growled a little louder, clearly meaning it as a warning. His ruby optics were becoming more alive, but in a way Wing couldn't quite describe other than an instinct to survive.

"Hmm...why is he so cold?His temperature is all over the place, his fans are working overtime, but there's no need for them to be doing so when he's already this cold..."

"The uh...slavers had ...I'm not even sure, when I saw them with him, they put him in this tank of liquid, it was freezing solid with him in it, I had to break through the lower layer of liquid to get him out. Thought he'd deactivated when I finally grabbed him even." Wing explained, noting Redline's optics softening a little in sympathy as he heard the story.

"Depend on what they used, it could have done some form of damage to his temperature regulating systems...I don't suppose you kept a sample of the liquid?"

"Uh...I mean I have the towel I wiped him with, I haven't put it for washing yet?"

"It will have to do ... I'll need to take it to examine any remaining residue." Redline told him. "In the meantime, I need to get a closer look at him, preferably access his medical port and-" a loud hiss from Drift could be heard in protest. "He really doesn't like that idea huh?"

"He barely lets me touch him as it is, I've no doubt he will hate it if you even try." As if to confirm his suspicions, Drift's growling became a bit louder.

"Have you gotten him to speak to you at all?" Redline asked, stepping side to let Wing try and talk the mechling into being cooperative.

"No, he managed to communicate to me that his voice box is damaged in some way, it hurts for him to speak. We've been using a data pad to communicate."

"I'll have to have a look at his throat then...if we're lucky, its nothing serious, but if it is, it needs to be treated before it gets infected with anything or malforms when healing on it's own. Especially since we don't know what kind of liquid he was submerged into."

"Right...Do you hear that Drift? You have to let Redline look at you,  I know you really don't want to, but you have to trust us right now." He tried reaching into the cave of blankets a little, to open it more. 

Drift gave him a nasty glare, inching further back into it as much as he could. Wing tried to follow after him, to pull him out, only to be surprised when the mechling suddenly moved with unexpected speed, his fangs flashing in sight for a moment, but he wasn't on time to retreat his hand before they sank into his hand.

"ARGH! Drift!" he tried control himself not to pull away, at least if Drift kept biting him, he could grab him and pull him out "That's not very nice, ow, don't sink them further in!" He might be a youngling, but he was grown enough for those fangs of his to have grown long enough to do some damage. It was mostly superficial, but it still stung.

Redline however, saw the opportunity, and moved in to help Wing secure the youngling, who suddenly realized his predicament and started fighting the hands that grabbed him and held him in place. Together they managed to secure him, though it was now a very angry and seething youngling, clamping his dentae as much as he could on Wing's sequestered hand.

"Seems we're doing this the hard way " The doctor said, making sure to keep Drift's legs underneath his own larger one, while he fiddled with the arm he was holding to connect into the medical port.

Going in was no problem, the youngling had some firewalls, basic, and not particularly effective, nothing he couldn't take down, much to the child's horror. He kept it professional however, clean and fast, he ran his diagnostic program, not too surprised to find some bugs or error codes, but nothing too over the top, Drift's mind was clean of viruses at least, and didn't seem to hold anything deadly. It was the physical diagnostics that worried him a bit:

Malfunctioning Tcog, damaged voice box, left optic lens malfunction, sensory errors all over the place, which mean he couldn't feel sensations in some parts of his body, namely his back and hands... The list never seemed to end, so it was no surprise this mechling was so advertise to strangers, even of their own kind. Some of this damage though...it had to be old.

Leaving a small patch to regulate his temperature functions, Redline unplugged from the mechling, patting his arm briefly before closing the port. "There, that wasn't so bad was it?" 

Drift was shaking at this point, he didn't cry, but he was clearly panicking, vents running hotter with his efforts to free himself, optics darting to the two mechs, seeking a chance for freedom.

"I hate seeing him like this..." Wing admitted, wishing there was some way he could comfort Drift.

"Yeah, unfortunately its a necessary evil right now, there's a whole list of things I have to go over later to treat him for, and that's just the physical stuff...some of these injuries though..." He hesitated a moment. "Anyway, lets have a look at that voice box, Wing, lift your hand a little will you? I need a good clear look at his throat cabling."

Not surprisingly, when Wing did, and Redline got near, Drift choice to let go of Wing's hand in favor of biting Redline's, except the two adults had been ready this time, and wing had quickly manipulated his suddenly free hand to grab at Drift's helm, holding it still. 

"No, no more biting Drift. Redline is trying to HELP you." All he got in response was a hiss, wild optics trying to watch Redline and he lowered himself to have a better look. He clearly wanted nothing more than to get away from the two, or hurt them for what they were doing to him.

 "Hmmm...well, the good news is: I don't think we have to replace the entire thing. Which is good, because that would not only take a long time, but would have been a pain to explain without raising suspicions. The bad news is, I do need to get some specific parts to repair what's been damaged here, but I can at least remove the broken stuff, it should alleviate his pain a little..."

"How are you going to do that? we can barely keep him still."

"well... I CAN sedate him..." Drift's whole body stiffened, his optics widening a little more in fear. Wing felt for him, understanding his terror of being unaware when someone was doing things he couldn't understand to his body.

"Does he have to be knocked out for it?"

"Well... no, but I'd recommend it."

Wing looked back to Drift, trying to read the young one's optics. They were full of fear, betrayal, hurt.

"Drift? Would you like to be offline while Redline does this?" He felt the young one try to shake his head in his grip. "Okay, if you change your mind though..."

"I won't knock him out, but he'll be having a hard time doing much of anything during the whole procedure." Redline told him, transforming part of the armor in his arm to that of sedative gun. "I'll monitor his spark rate though, just in case." he said, applying the shot, to which Drift jerked a bit in a last ditch attempt to free himself.

Redline let him go for now, while Wing pulled the mechling closer in all the flailing of limbs, he held him close, keeping him from fleeing while the sedative slowly took effect.

Limbs drooped, frame sagged, Wing watched as those beautiful red optics dilated, looking present still, yet, somewhat aloof.

"I think he's out enough, lay him back down, on his back" Redline instructed, as the two gently moved the mechling back on the berth, each of them sitting on one side. Wing kept a hand on the mechling's helm, his field projecting as much safety and protection as he could to assure him. For once, Drift's field was letting lose, a turmoil of emotions:

Confusion, fear, betrayal, anger, pain, and the strongest of all, an unhinged hatred, pure violence.

"It's okay, it'll be all right" he cooed, trying to distract him while Redline started putting away the protective plating of the neck to get to the voice box. "It will all end before you know it. Then you can sleep as much as you want, I'll even bake you some treats."

"Hm...here we go..." Red line said, beginning to remove the first few pieces. They were all tiny, tiny bits of mechanics that Wing had no hope to understand, but marveled at anyway. "Oh ew, there's something in here..." pulling out a different tool, he stuck it in somewhere in there, and brought it back out, covered in a green, thick looking goo. With a frown he brought up to his gaze, and transformed one of his optics into a scope, so he could examine it better. 

"Sons of glitches..."

"Redline!"

"Sorry, it's just...This couldn't possibly have been the slaver's doing..."

"What IS it?"

"This? My friend, is the resulting residue one makes in their INTAKE - not the voice box - from an long over usage of Boosters."

"Boosters? As in-" he cut himself off, as if the mere word were forbidden.

"Yes, the drug, the very CYBERTRONIAN drug. " he cleaned it off to a rag, and proceeded to bring it back so he could scoop out more from the voice box. "And he's been on it for a long time it seems, he's bound to get withdrawals."

"Wha-what should I do? How do I take care of him?"

"Well, not much you CAN do, other than to keep an optic on him, help him fuel, attend his needs, and most of all: keep him from hurting himself. He's not getting Boosters anywhere around here, so he'll be desperate, he'll either try to find a replacement, or he could potentially try and end his own life if its bad enough." Wing's spark dropped at the news, it was like it was crying an agonizing song for the child he tried to comfort.

"In the meantime, I'll have to find a replacement, yes we're going to drug him a little, enough to start detoxing him at least. It's dangerous to just let him withdrawal through it all at once. He could have spark failures, seizures, the works. At best, he'll continue having issues regulating his temperature, throw up, shiver, feel some frame stiffness and pain...maybe even hallucinate. Again it all depends on how long he's been on the stuff, and how much of it. But we're going on the assumption that the Slavers didn't do this, so a Cybertronian must have, and given his age,  we can suspect a guardian or even a creator. And if THEY are the ones responsible for it, it's very likely they were users too, which just makes this even worse because it could go all the way to his conception."

"But he will make it right?" it was all Wing  could ask, all of it sounded so dreadful and final, like this child was doomed for the rest of his (possibly short) life. He needed to see the positive, the light in it all.

"If we take good care of him...yes." Redline said hesitantly "But it would be better if we could take him to the sickbay...so the sooner you tell Dai Atlas the better."

"That's... going to be hard if I have to watch over him all the time..." which was the other issue, how was he going to watch over Drift when he had duties to attend to?

"I could make it seem like I came to check you over and pass you  a medical slip...it won't be for more than a few days but...hopefully it'll be long enough to get through his withdrawal."

"Do it, I...I need time to sort this out, and to figure out how I'm going to tell Dai Atlas..." he murmured the last part thoughtfully, half focused on petting Drift's helmet, as a shaky breath left the child for a moment.

After a few good minutes, Redline declared he was done with the voice box, and began working away on other body parts the diagnostics had told him were having trouble.

Wing focused most of that time on keeping Drift calm, diverting his optics away from what Redline was doing so he wouldn't panic, and talking to him occasionally.

 He didn't even realize that at some point, Drift's terror filled field, had latched onto his.

Redline put back the piece of armor he had taken out last, and let out a tired vent. "That's the last of it, well, of what I can do for now and from here. I'll see about procuring those parts, with some luchsomeone's donated some."

Wing nodded at this moving Drift to lie back in his little nest of blankets, covering him again.

"Again I'm sorry for dragging you into this...and for hiding my true intentions...I...I didn't know what else to do."

"It's fine Wing...your way might not have been the best but...you had the best intentions at spark, and you did save a life. That is our most honorable mission in life."

"Indeed it is..." he smiled at his friend, getting up with him. "Let me at least offer you a meal, after all of this, we should leave him to rest a bit, and I hate to just send you off without at least giving you a chance to relax a bit and have some fun.

"Well, I don't see why  not. You do kinda owe me." The doctor teased, lightly punching Wing's shoulder "Just make sure you leave him well, I'll be waiting in the living room watching the vidscreen" He then made his way out of the room.

Wing took a moment, before looking back to his berth, where Drift lay in his nest, looking betrayed and fragile, and...well...kind of high from the sedative still.

He gently aproached him, sitting down with as little bounce to the bed as he could make. Drift followed him with his bug eyed gaze.

"Hey...I'm sorry you have to go through that...I think we did get a lot of help from it though, and I bet your throat feels a lot better right? After all that icky gunk was taken out? And it won't hurt anymore if you try to speak...though you won't really been speaking yet anyway." He pet his helm a little, and heard an engine whirr that was probably meant as a growl, but just kind of fell short from one.

"I'm going to be in the living room for a bit now okay? I'll come to check in on you, but try and get some recharge. I promise no more inspections."

Drift looked away from him, letting out a huffy vent. Wing just took it as a 'go ahead' and tucked him in as best as he could in that nest before making his way out, hesitating in the door for a moment, before turning off the light and leaving.

* * *

Deadlock had fallen into recharge at last, if a bit uneasy, he'd hated the whole doctor appointment, how dare they? How dare Wing?

Feeling someone take off his armor, doing things to his body was...he couldn't even describe it. He hated it all, and he feared that because he'd reacted and bit Wing, he would be punished by it. But aside from the initial protest, there hadn't been anything.

So it was no surprise that when Deadlock fell into that familiar darkness, he was faced with that face...the scowl underneath the glowing visor, the emotion hidden behind the battle mask, the large frame, poised with every inch of disapproval it possibly could have.

"Deadlock" His voice alone made the non existent surroundings echo with his distaste for him. "You have disappointed me once again."

"S-sire...I..." he didn't actually know what to tell him, anything, he needed to justify himself, his worth. "I couldn't take it anymore...The slavers they-"

"Did as I asked them to. They thought you to be more obedient, to listen to orders, and instead, you spit in their faces, disrespect my wishes."

"You weren't coming back! I was going to get killed! You always said to look out for myself first! That's what I did!" 

"Yes but not at the cost of disobeying my wishes." Deadlock watched with growing dread as his sire's arm cannon began to smoke. "Do you remember what I do to mechs who disobey me?"

"I do! I do remember! You've shown me many times! You've shown me what happens..." His voice failed a little as he remembered just what exactly that entailed.

"Good, because when I come for you, you better have that pitiful excuse for a mech dead, or I will personally do it, and then mop the floor of his energon with your greying frame."

Deadlock felt himself weaken at the threat, knowing he'd follow through with it.

"Y-yes...sire. I-I'll do it."

 

 

 


	6. food for thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter fought me, and since there seemed to be little interest in this fic I got lazier and slower at working on it.

When Deadlock returned from that heavy darkness, it was to a scorching heat and a sore frame. He could feel the condensation over his plating, his vents roaring, and yet, the fuzzy blanket he found himself wrapped around in still felt nice.

Weakly. he made to sit up, only for an arm to wrap around him a tiny bit tighter, keeping him in place. A soft gentle voice made a "shhh" noise, and he made an effort to look up the body he  lay against, to find Wing's bright face smiling down at him with that annoying pity hidden in his optics.

"Go back to recharge Drift, you need the rest" he cooed, making Deadlock frown. He hated this kind of treatment, being taken care of like a defenseless protoform, having his weaknesses pointed out to him. "Unless you're hungry?" The mech must have misunderstood his scowl for discomfort. "I made some goodies while you were out, and I did promise you some after putting up with Redline." he suggested softly.

Food did sound good right about now, his tank was roiling sickly, protesting being empty, yet at the same making him feel incapable of even considering food. But he knew that just meant he really needed to get something in there, his body was burning through all his energy as it was.  
Wing took this as a positive sign, and gently laid Deadlock down next to him, on the couch, at some point the mech must have moved him over there. He was set down on a nest of pre-prepared pillows, the comfort was exquisite, and relished in it, forgetting for a moment to keep his face with the practiced scowl.

Wing gave him that same smile, petting his helmet briefly before leaving him there to go to that strange food making corner of the room. Deadlock had a perfect view of him, and watched with a silent fascination as the mech started preparing one of those delicious cubes.  
The light was glinting off his white armor just perfect, giving him this heavenly aura as he did what must have been a pretty mundane task in ...where ever he was. He set the cubes on a tray, and then proceeded to open up a tin box, scooping out something from inside and setting it on a ...was that a shooting target practice disk? Anyway he set that on the tray as well and returned with the meal, setting it down on the tiny table in front of the couch before sitting down next to him again.

"I do hope these are to your liking, though Redline informed me you might not be able to hold food very well for a while." He spoke, reaching for the remote and lowering the volume ont he vidscreen. Deadlock hadn't even realized it was on, his reflexes were that bad? What had that doctor drugged him with?

Wing picked up a cube first, bringing it over to him and holding it out. Deadlock tried to stick his arms out of his cocoon, only to find them shaking terribly and sore like the pit. It felt like they weighed three times his body mass, and the joints were itchy, as if they were catching on fire.

"Ah...no no, please, let me help you, save your strength." Wing told him, lowering his efforts back down with his free, bandaged hand. Oh yeah, he had bit him hadn't he? A surge of pride filled his chest, taking some satisfying glee in knowing he'd at least fought back against the invasion to his person.  
Wing caught on to his gaze, frowning as he realized Deadlock was actually smirking.

"You know that wasn't very nice. You can't go around biting bots like that. " That was exactly what he was going to do if anyone so much as dared bring a needle anywhere close to him again. He took the tip of the straw offered to him, and started sucking away all that sweet energy, making sure to keep his smirk on, just to annoy Wing all the more.  
After a few sips, wing pulled his drink away, and he made sure to snarl at that. But Wing ignored his protests, grabbing instead one of the strange brick shaped pieces of food he'd brought, it had a rough texture, and a darker shade of pink to its coat. He broke it in three pieces to make it smaller, and was bringing one to Deadlock's mouth when he hesitated, giving him a stern look and a pointed finger "No biting." he warned, before finally offering him the treat.

Deadlock took it a little clumsily, letting it roll on his mouth at first, unsure what to do with it. He watched his carer take another one of the treats and bite down it, proceeding to...mash it with his denta? He tried to imitate slowly, taking the sensation in, fully appreciating the strange feeling.

At first, the coating of the treat hadn't tasted that much, and the texture wasn't all that pleasant, but when he bit down on it? Oh, pure bliss, his frame even gave a hard shudder of pleasure. The crunchiness was so satisfying, and his glossa was having a party in there with the treat's interior, taking in the new strong flavor and falling in love with it.

 He reluctantly swallowed the delicacy, licking his lipplates, not one crumb could be wasted!

Wing smiled, bringing back his cube for another drink, before he could give him another piece of his treat. They continued like this for a while, Deadlock just allowing himself this small moment to enjoy himself and relax a little bit.  Eventually though, Wing set aside his empty cube, and picked up the tray to take it back to the strange corner of the room.

Deadlock observed him a bit more, the mech begining to clean the empty cubes and the tray of treats. It wasn't long before that bored him however, and he sagged a little with the exhaustion of his frame.

Now that he was fueled and, relatively alone, he mused on his mission, his dream. Or had it really been a dream? His sire had before contacted him in strange ways, like he'd implanted a commline in his head with no off switch. More importantly, was Deadlock going to do it? There were good reasons to.

Firstly, if it truly had been his sire, then it would be a bad idea to disobey, and secondly, even if it had just been a fever driven dream, once his sire found him, he'd be disappointed that Deadlock HADN'T killed the white mech.

But on the other servo, his sire never came to get him from the slavers, which meant he either didn't care, or wasn't alive. Even if he came for him now, he wouldn't know where to find Deadlock. Pit, Deadlock didn't know where he was. 

What would happen if he was never to see his sire again? Never to see an Autobot or a Decepticon? He'd never considered that even possible, the war was all he ever knew. Autobot, Decepticons..there was no in between, no other faction. Just the two, warring against each other for reasons no one was truly even certain anymore, everyone had their own agenda.

His Sire, as terrible as he was, had made sure to give Deadlock at least some education: the history of their war, Megatron's speeches to the populus, rising to power, fighting bak injustice. There was a time Deadlock had found inspiration and pride from those words.

Megatron himself had been inspiring in real life, as he often came to check his training progress, he always seemed satisfied and pleased with him, and it had made Deadlock work harder to becoming a better soldier.

 Being a good soldier, fighting in Megatron's name to end this horrendous war...that had been his goal.

He'd never considered what his life would be like when the war was to end. What he would do or be.

"Drift?" He jumped a little, startled out of his thoughts by the soft voice. He looked up to his current guardian, who looked a little concerned. "Do you feel well? You've been glaring off into space for a while."He reached over to rest his palm on Deadlock's dark chevron, and he retreated further into his blankets, trying to avoid the contact, growling for good measure. He was getting really sick of how touchy feely Wing was.

Wing made a 'tsk' sound, but didn't persist, pulling his hand away.

"Well you still have a temperature, but it's not exactly worse. Maybe you're just grouchy from being sick." he mused out loud, starting to adjust Deadlock's covers on automatic.

Deadlock watched him with unease, his sharp optics following every movement to the best of his ability.

"You should try and get some rest, Redline predicted you wouldn't be feeling well for a good while, so it is best to save up your energy as much as you can." Yes, for both purposes of going through that, and for accomplishing his mission once he saw an opening. " You know...I didn't really plan on saving you, I mean I was there to release the slaves sure, but I hadn't expected to find a cybertronian there...much less one your age. " Wing told him, pausing to let that sink in. "I'm glad I did though, and while this is unexpected for us both I'm sure, I want to make it work. I will do everything in my power to take care of you and find your creator, I promise you that."

 


	7. Dinner with a Sinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with this one as I wasn't sure where you guys wanted me to take this. Hopefully this really awkward conversation between parents and son isn't too cringeworthy XD ah but that would be losing its purpose wouldn't it?

Wing had thought that once Drift had fallen back to recharge, and he retired to the berth with him, that he'd have another peaceful night.

Oh how wrong he had been...the first time he woke with a start, feeling the trembling and twitching frame of the youngling next to his, almost to the point of convulsing. He had nearly called in Redline when Drift's optics had snapped back online and a look of pure terror and adrenaline met him.

The youngling had flung himself backwards, off he berth, and crawled under it as far as he could out of Wing's reach. It had taken him a while to coax him out from there and even longer to fully calm him down and convince him to go back to recharge.

From then on, Drift had had two more nightmarish fits, and although Wing had been better prepared to hold the youngling down so he wouldn't hurt himself falling off the bed again, it still took a lot of effort each time to calm him down.

Now the artificial dawn was starting, and he found that it was pointless to try and go back to recharge. He could never do it when the daylight was on, unless extremely exhausted.

With a saturated sigh, he picked up Drift in his bundle of blankets and carried him to the living room, setting him down as usual in the couch before he headed off to fix their morning meal.

He was almost done preparing a simple breakfast when he heard shifting from the couch.

After a while he saw Drift's head poking out from the blankets and looking around, swaying a little  in spot. Frowning to himself and taking note of that as a sign that he wasn't doing much better, Wing hurried the rest of his preparations, putting it in a tray, leaving two biscuits for the young one. He had seemed to like them previously, and maybe that would help to keep him well fed.

As he aproached the sitting area, Drift turned sharply to look at him, his optics narrowing as usual.

"I have some energon for us. Thought you might be hungry when you woke up." He conversed casually, completely ignoring the filthy looks the youngling was giving him. It didn't last long however: As soon as he was offered his treats, his mood improved, and he was more tolerant.

This began to be their usual routine: sleep a lot, prevent Drift from having nightmares, feeding, cleaning his frame from all the condensation the fever got him, and whenever he was in a better mood Wing would try and talk to him as well.

Drift just...didn't talk much. Despite now having the datapad to communicate with, he avoided doing so, preferring to respond instead with grunts, hisses or the occasional short nod.

Despite this, Wing still tried, coaxing him to give more complete answers, and in general just keep up a one sided conversation for the sake of them getting used to each other instead of awkwardly staying silent all the time.

 A few days passed, and with Redline's help Wing was managing to help Drift through his withdrawals and sickness, but he was making no progress on the Dai Atlas front. In fact, he'd been avoiding it completely, much to Redline's irritation. 

It was only when his friend threatened to tell on him that he finally gave in.

So now, he stood there, in front of Dai Atlas's and Axe's front door, shifting on his heels nervously, trying to get the courage to knock on the door.

Drift would be all right for a few hours, RedLine agreed to watch over him as a condition for him to go, which eased his worries just a tiny bit.

Finally, he gave in, and knocked, waiting patiently for a few seconds until he heard the door unlock, opening to reveal Axe, cheerful and bright as he always was, his smile seeming to brighten upon seeing him.

"Wing! We weren't expecting you lad! Come in, come in! Dai and I were just setting up dinner, would you like to join us?"

"Isn't it a little early for dinner still?" Wing questioned, following after the black and gold mech into the living room.

"A little yes, but Dai wanted to prepare something new for a while and he got a little ahead of himself, so its kind of cooked a little too early."

"Hm, usually its the opposite that happens."

"I suppose so- Dai! Look who decided to join us!" he quickly announced when Dai Atlas became visible at the kitchen isle that separated the room front he living room.  
"Wing? It has been a while since you've visited us at home, how are you fairing? Redline wouldn't really disclose the reason why you were feeling unwell."

"Ah..yes...it's uh... a little private, sorry. I'm not really comfortable talking about it." He apologized, feeling terrible for omitting his little secret. He did come to talk to them about Drift, but he wasn't about to just drop it on them. "I uh...I actually came to talk to you about something related to that."

"Oh?" The leader of the circle questioned, returning to his cooking. Axe motioned for Wing to sit, and took one of the couches himself, sinking into like one would after a long day of training.

"Yes...I uh...I've been seeing someone." The silence the two mechs gave him made him feel all the more horrible about what the lie, but it would serve to try and get them used to the idea of the youngling.

"Well, it is hardly the first time you decide to date someone" Axe pointed out, curious with where this was going. Because while true, Wing was never reserved or shy about his lovers.

"Right, this is...a little different. Not the person itself but...the whole thing just rose some questions for me and...I've been considering them" Wing tried to explain "And I guess I could use someone else's input on it for a while."

"What is it that has gotten you so thoughtful over then?" Dai atlas asked, leaning over the pot he was tending to, blowing on a spoon before sipping on whatever he was making to test it.

"Well, it's the talk about having a creation, you know, sparklings, younglings the whole deal." 

Dai Atlas's loud spitting of the stew he'd been so lovingly working on startled him enough to make him jump in his seat.

"Sparklings?" Axe questioned, redirecting Wing's attention to him. He looked serious, perhaps even a bit cautious. "How serious is this relationship?"

"Not that serious, the subject just came up when we were trying to get to know each other you know, casual thing, and it's just been on my processor a lot."

"I see, well, what do you think about the subject so far then?" He asked, leaning back against the chair once more, starting to relax again.

"Well, I wouldn't  _mind_ having one one day I guess? If its with the right person of course. But I uh...I was more curious about what you two would think...about having a grand creation."

They seemed to take that for a moment, and Wing could momentarily spot an inward conversation going on between their bond.

"We would have been delighted of course." Axe started "Perhaps not so much now, you're still a little too young to have a creation, but one day we would like to have little ones running around again. We only didn't have any more because you were a complicated carry."

"Right...that's the other thing..." Wing started, and here was the big push. "I ...don't think I'd want to spark my own...I would like to adopt one instead."

At this his creators took a long moment of silence, their gazes fixated on them as they processed that.

"It's not like there are many sparklings in need of adoption in our city Wing..." Dai Atlas started.

"I know, and its all hypothetical right now" Wing was quick to remind them, though inwardly his spark sank a little "Would...would it really be that bad if I just decided to adopt instead? I know there wouldn't be any familial bond but...that doesn't stop them from being any less our children when we adopt them. "

"We know wing" Axe said soothingly, raising a hand to silence the slightly anxious mech. "Its just, we don't want you getting disappointed, that's all. We would have welcomed a stranger's sparkling just as much as we would have one created from your spark. Despite the familiar bond being a difficulty."

Some of that did relieve Wing, but he was still nervous about it, but the first thoughts had been planted now, his creators would ponder on this for a while, get used to the idea, that was his plan.

"Is that why you've been indisposed?" Dai Atlas asked, calmly pouring his stew into a serving pot and bringing it to the table. "Has...has redline been testing you for how viable  your spark is to Carry?"

"What? Oh! No, no that's not it. I'm not infertile, I mean I don't think I am, we didn't do those sorts of exams." Axe let out a breath of relief.

"Oh good, we thought for a moment that was why you were thinking of adoption. Again not that that's a bad thing, but finding out you're infertile can be a heavy toll on some mechs."

"I'm sure." Well at least the seeds were now planted, His creators would now be thinking about the subject for a while, and hopefully get used to the idea until he could reveal Drift. "The reason for me being sick, is something else. Related, I'll give you that, but it's nothing like what you're thinking. And no I don't have an aggressive lover, its nothing of the sort either."

"So when do we get to meet this... new mystery lover?" Dai atlas asked, prepping the dinner table for three.

"Oh" well slag, Wing hadn't thought that far "I'm...not sure, I'll have to talk to them about it. Probably no time soon. This is more of a personal issue than to do with them."

"Well, whenever you're ready lad. But you know you can come to us for anything though, just in case." Axe clapped him on the shoulder, getting up from his seat to join the table, Wing making to follow.

"I know..I just need my time and space before I can do that."

"I'm sure whatever it is, it can't possibly be as terrible as you sneaking out of the citadel." Dai Atlas told him, watching as his creation shrunk a little in guilt "Yes I know you're still doing it. Just because you're grown up doesn't mean we stop watching out for you."

"Sorry...it's just...the open sky... The cave doesn't quite manage to simulate it."

"We know, but try and limit your excursions a bit more. Sooner or later other flyers will notice and demand the same rights and then we will have a whole security risk in our servos. It's too risky." Axe reminded him.

"I'll do my best." Wing promised, and he knew it would be true, with Drift in his life now, he wouldn't have much time or reason to go out.


	8. Getting Colder

It had been a few days after that dinner with Dai Atlas and Axe. Drift was making some improvements, which would normally be a relief, had he not turned out to be a very restless youngling.

Wing soon found out that once he had the energy, Drift just didn't do sitting or lying down. He was an active child, he needed to move around just as much as a flyer needed to be in the open sky. Which meant that Wing's appartment was a little claustrophobic for him. He grew the habit of sitting by the window, often watching the outside world, the jets flying by occasionally, and the vehicles down below on the streets. He didn't really pay much attention to cartoons on the vidscreen, and any toys or entertainment Wing tried to get him held his attention only for a little while before he'd return to the window. Wing was slowly starting to realize that Drift was...very unlike normal children. Perhaps it was where he came from, his upbringing even. He saw the Decepticon brand on him, he knew what it meant. And he had to wonder who would raise a child in the middle of all that mess. The result was staring him in the face every day now: A fidgity child, suspicious of the whole world, alone and glancing at the sky every so often with a glint of either hope or fear of recognizing something out there, just waiting for his fate.

The only things Wing found could keep his attention were food, and reading to him story files. Mind you, he didn't much care for the young minded ones, but he did seem to enjoy when Wing read him some of the more mature of mind ones.

Of course he never enjoyed being treated much like a child, despite being so obviously starved for affection, Wing didn't push unless it was for his health. He would let Drift sit on the other side of the couch while he read outlout for him, and wait patiently until his cute fins started to droop and his body would sag until eventually he'd fall asleep.  
It was then that he would slowly  roll around the couch on his own in search of a good position until eventually he'd settle next to Wing's hip, his head only slightly resting on it.

It made Wing's spark flutter and warm up every time, and he soaked in those moments, taking it as a sign that maybe Drift really did want the company, he was just scared to take it.

It was one such moment, when the bell to his door buzzed, and he was pinged with Redline's comm signal. He sent the command to unlock his front door, and heard the mech come in. 

Keeping his voice low he called out "We're in the living room, he's taking a nap."

A few seconds later his medic friend appeared from the hallway, a kit in hand.

"Well he's certainly looking better. Have you talked to him about today?" Redline asked, resting a hand on his hip, a small smile on his lips as he took in the sight, it was clear to him Wing was already hopelessly attatched to the youngling, what with the way he was petting the small helmet on his lap, and how he adjusted his frame just enough that if Redline had decided to try and take Drift from him, it would have been hard. He probably didn't even realize yet how far deep he'd sunk into that situation.

"I tried, I'm not entirely sure he was listening to me to be honest. It's hard to keep his focus on me sometimes."

"Well, given what we know about the treatment to his body that isn't entirely surprising. To be honest I'm amazed he doesn't seem to have more processor damage, at least not more on the surface. I'm sure theres some things in there that once I dig deep with the propper equipment will show up." He took note on how Wing's frame tightened a bit at that, his arm craddling Drift's head protectively.

"Anyway, we can try and wake him up, or I can try and give him the sedative now and pray he doesn't wake up startled." Wing seemed to consider it for a moment.

"If you think you can do it without waking him up, I'd rather avoid him stressing out. He really didn't like the needle last time."

"Fair point..." Redline agreed, setting down his kit and preparing the syringe with the sedative. "Maybe just in case get ready to hold him..."

Wing nodded at this, readjusting their positions a little bit so Redline could have better access to the young one's cables.

They carefully cleaned the area, Wing noting a tiny flinch from Drift, but he didn't seem to wake. Redline adjusted the needle's quantity of sedative and leaned in.

As soon as the tip of the needle touched a revealed arm cable, Drift's ruby optics shot open. In a flash he rolled around, his arm away from the needle, and grabbed redline's servo with as much strengh as he could, sinking his clawed digits into the metal, making the medic yelp in pain and drop the syringe.

Wing made to grab him and dislodge the grip, but as he did his mind saw what Drift's other hand was doing as if in slow motion.

He grabbed the falling syringe and jammed it into Redline's hip plating, right between a seam between it and his abdominal plating.

"Drift!" He yelled in alarm, pulling the youngling from the medic. "Oh Primus! Redline! Are you all right?!" 

Redline staggered back, but managed to keep himself upright on his knees somehow. Wing let go of the growling youngling to help his friend who was doing his best not to stumble to the floor.

"I'm ...I'm okay...it won't knock me out...s'not enough...oof..." Redline assured him, Wing grabbing his shoulders to help him still.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't think he would do such a thing! You need to sit down before you colapse, let me help you"

"N-ngh...no. Wing...you need to....to..." he gestured vaguely to Drift.

Wing followed his motion, only to notice Drift was no longer in the couch, in fact, once he noticed that, he rose to his feet and looked around the room: nothing.

"Drift?" he called in alarm, no response. He quickly turned back to Redline to make sure the mech wouldn't fall from his sitting position. "Hold on, I need to find him. Drift?" he quickly made his way to the hall, ready to go and check the berthroom when he noticed something unusual. 

There was an extra light coming from the entryway, his spark sunk when he saw the front door open wide.

"Oh no..." He rushed for the door, but there was no Drift in the hallway, no sign of him in fact, the youngling had escaped.

* * *

 

Deadlock had messed it up, he messed it up big time. His mind raced over everything as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him, not quite sure where he was headed, but just avoiding mechs in general, taking to the shadows, stepping out into the streets, trying to disappear.

The last few days had been slag...he'd been sick, he felt like he was being tortured by his own body. The nightmares, the fevers, the plaguing thoughts, the gnawing in his stomach that wouldn't let up no matter how much Wing fed him...but they had also been some of the best days he could ever remember. Despite all the fragged up stuff happening to him, Wing had gone through it by his side. He had stayed up at night to make sure Deadlock could sleep, he would wash him and feed him, despite Deadlock giving him nothing but glares and warnings. His field was always patient and kind, a strong presence that started to settle against Deadlock's frame like a much needed pillar to keep him up.

He realized he had started to like Wing. The one sided conversations about nothing in particular, the readings, pit even just his scent. All of it had attatched to Deadlock's armor like scraplets, and ate away into his spark, it fed him something he didn't know he was missing before, and he came to enjoy it. He came to like Wing's company.

And now he'd ruined it. He wasn't sure what happened, but one klik he was restfully sleeping against Wing, bathing in his supportive field, and the next he felt a familiar prickle of..of a syringe. The memories of all the times he'd been forced to take "the good stuff" from his sire, and then apply it to himself afterwards came rushing in, and he had jumped into defensive on automatic.

He made sure to take the weapon away from his attacker, and gave it right back to him. He only realized to whom he had done so, and that it had been wrong to do it when Wing's startled voice broke through his muddled processor.

The worry, the panic and hurt in his voice, it was hurt. He had hurt the one mech who was ever kind to him, he had failed him.

Panic had struck him in turn, and as he watched Wing fret over the falling medic, he felt his spark constrict, with a cruel vice like grip, fear took over, and Deadlock was running before he understood what he was actually doing. He ran for the front door, begging to Primus that the medic hadn't unlocked it.

It seemed luck was on his side as it clicked open, and allowed him out into the unknown.

After a long while of running, he noted that it was raining, a strange thing he'd noticed some days ago. Wing had explained it wasn't natural, but that it was a simulation of what happened on some organic planets out there.

He slowed down a little, feeling his tired legs slip a little on the wet floor. For the first time he took in his surroundings:

He was in some kind of plaza, it was empty save for the towering statues, looming above him with darkened shadows hidding their faces.

He never felt so small in his life, not even during the war. It was like the figures were judging him for his actions, accusing him...and...were they moving? He felt his vents start to stutter and have a hard time catching up with his racing spark.

His vision was starting to blur, and he blinked, trying to wipe the liquid away from his optics, but it wasn't really helping much. He staggered back, trying to get away from the aproaching statues, his pedes slipped on a step and he felt himself fall. 

The hard floor never came though, and he felt large hands hold him in mid fall, Red optics looked down on him in the darkness.

"Are you all right young one?"

Deadlock tried to answer, forgetting that his vocalizer allowed him no sound, his vision grew darker and his body limp. The large mech before him was speaking, his pale lip plates were moving, but he couldn't register the sound.

As his mind slipped away into the inky blackness, Deadlock couldn't only think of one thing: How much he regretted leaving Wing.

 


	9. Official

Axe had been in the middle of cleaning up his home when he heard Dai Atlas arrive. Really it was no time for him to be cleaning, but Dai Atlas arrived so late sometimes that cleaning was like an anti stress while he waited.

Usually Dai Atlas came back exhausted, and he was certain tonight was no different, that was, until he saw his mate's soggy frame come in, craddling a smaller shape, and for a fleeting moment he thought he saw Wing when he was young again, only to realize it was a different youngling, soaked to his joints and passed out in crook of the giant mech's arm.

"Dai? What happened? Where did you find that youngling?"

"He was in the Prime plaza, I... don't know where he came from, he's not from the city...fetch me a towel will you? His frame is freezing." Without hesitation Axe did just that, rushing to the washracks to grab a few towels and running back. Dai Atlast was already in the living room, waiting for him.

They wrapped the youngling in a towel, drying him off as much as they could, Axe hesitated however when he saw the purple sygil ont he young one's chassis. "Dai..."

"I know... I saw it. We'll get to that later." Dai atlas told him, helping his mate switch the towels for a dry and fluffier one now that the child was dry. "I don't think he was well when I found him to begin with, the artificial weather didn't help matters."

"Where do you think the lad came from?" Axe questioned, setting him down on the couch as comfortably as he could manage. "He's not a sparkling, he is old enough to have gotten around on his own but...he should still be with his creators."

"Wherever he came from, his creators should not be far, I fear they may be hidding in the city somewhere perhaps...I've already sent an order to close down all the exits and start searching."

" We should get a medic for him...I don't like the sound his vents are making, he is definetly sick." Axe said, inspecting the black and white frame cautiously.

"I agree, he passed out shortly after I found him, I didn't manage to get a word out of him." Dai Atlas mused. "Perhaps redline would be a good medic to call, he has some experience with younglings and has  a good afinity for them from what I hear."

"Yes, he might be a good choice." Axe agreed , watching as Dai Atlas began the call through his commline.

"Medic Redline? I apologize for calling you in so late, I have need of-"

"Big bossssss!!!!!" Redline's loud drunken voice came through, making the two mechs still. Never had they heard Redline drunk before, and there was noise coming from the background of the call "What can I doooo for ya" 

"Redline? Is this...a bad time?" Dai Atlas asked wearily

"Pft! Naw! Why would you say that boss? I was jus' hangin' out with Wing, you know. His personal issue"

"Right...Redline, are you with Wing then?"

"Hmmm? Oh naw, he ran out as soon as the lil' runt ran away. I couldn't follow'im see, my legs fallen asleep."

"Little runt...?" Dai Atlas's optics glanced between Axe's and then the mechling on their couch before he returned to his call "Redline, I'll call you back in a bit, I need to speak to Wing."

"Okay boss bot! But he's not goin' to listen to ya!" 

Choosing to ignore the uncomfortable cozyness of Redline's tone, Dai atlas shut off that call, and began one for his creation. It took a good few tries, Wing wouldn't answer, and he was almost about to call it quits and go look for him when finally he heard the tell tale click of an answer.

"Hey uh, sorry Dai Atlas, this is a really bad time, do you think you could maybe call me at another time?" He sounded like he was outside, he could hear the rain.

"Wing. We talked to Redline" Dai Atlas cut to the chase, practically feeling how Wing froze on the other side of the line " He said you ran off into this rain in search of a "runt". Now, by runt I assume he was referring to a youngling, about ten, maybe twelve vorns old? White and black? A  _Decepticon sygil_ on his chest?"

Wing's answer came in almost a whisper, sounding regretful, yet relieved.

"I-is he all right?"

"He passed out when I found him, I believe he was stressed and panicked, and seems to have gotten ill due to the weather."

"I...no..he was getting better but...he was already kind of sick...are you at home?"

"Yes, please make your way here as soon as possible, we will watch over the young one until you arrive."

"Right, I'm on my way...if he wakes up, don't crowd him, he gets a bit cagey and agressive."

"Knowing that is not helping your case on this child's reason to being in our city."

"I'll explain when I'm there" Wing told him, and then shut the call.

 

It really didn't take long. For flyers getting across the city on a bad weather day meant no traffic, so Wing was there in no time at all. 

When Dai Atlas opened the door for him, he was soaked, he looked exhausted, his optics were pale with both panic and exhaustion, and they instantly darted past his sire in search of his missing youngling.

"Come in, lets get you dried up, he is still asleep, you have time to take care of your own frame" He pointed out before his own creation could complain.

Wind allowed himself to be led to the living room, once Drift was in sight, sleeping in the couch peacefully with Axe watching over him, he relaxed a little bit, startling when a towel was dropped on his shoulders.

"So "Dai Atlas started, moving around him and to his mate. " we're guessing you somehow aquired this youngling from topside on one of your excursions and brought him down here, hidding him from us. Where did he come from? Where are his creators?"

Wing gripped the towel tightly, his processor trying to think of the best way to answer. He knew the truth was the best, but it was hard to tell them the truth.

"I...yes, I got him from outside the city...I...don't know where his creators are, there were no other cybertronians around. None that I could see anyway. I found him in that organic slave camp " he tried to ignore the way his creators's faces grew stern "I had been planning to let them lose, give them a chance to escape, when I came across Drift" he motioned for the youngling. "They were torturing him, freezing him underwater in a tank. I...didn't really think, just acted on instinct and attacked. I got him out and flew out of there as fast as I could, made sure no one followed me and snuck back into the city.

At first I was prioritizing getting him recovered from that, but soon realized I needed a medic...I wasn't ready to tell you however, so I...tricked Redline to come over and to keep it a secret until I was ready to tell you..."

"So that's what the sparkling talk was about the other day." Axe realized, unsure how he felt about the subject. "Wing...did you...did you expect to adopt this child?"

"I...well no. I know he HAS a sire at least. He can't really talk yet, his vocalizer was damaged, RedLine was meant to fix it today, but when trying to give him a sedative he freaked out and managed to inject redline with his own sedative..he...might be having a moment in my appartment as we speak. After that Drift ran away while I was attending to him, and I ran out after him. I was....so afraid."

"What do you intend to do with him then? You can't  send him out of the city now, he has seen too much."

"Dai Atlas please, he's just a child, up until today he hasn't left my appartment, he wouldn't be able to tell much." Wing started to beg, already fearing the worst.

"Well, that may be true, but if he has a sire out there, they might be looking for him." Axe pointed out. "And there is no way we would ever send anyone out to contact them."

"I-I know...to be honest, I'm... I'm not sure I would want to return him to his sire." That seemed to surprise his own creators, and not in the good way. 

"Wing...a son needs to be with what family they have left, its-" Axe started.

"I know! I know...but... well I suspected it after the first few nights, and Redline agreed with me later when we got to do some more scans on him...He...he's got evidence of...well..." he couldn't quite put it to words, but it seemed enough for he saw the realization dawning on their optics.

"How bad are we talking about?" Axe asked, looking back to the youngling with more concern, as if he could suddenly notice such tell tale signs.

"Definetly drug abuse, I've been working with him through his withdrawals for the past few days...Redline couldn't do an in depth scan, but he suspects there might be some damage. He also had some...bruising, the kind an organic couldn't make." he said uneasily "But the most evident is the nightmares he has... he wakes up startled, completely alert and in fight or flight mode. He will fight for his life if you don't allow him space to calm down after a nightmare like that." he explained, the words hurting al the more as he said them.

 "You realize you have brought that into our city with him?" Dai Atlas spoke, trying and failing to not sound accusing.

"Dai...Wing did the right thing. A youngling is a preacious gift, someone that deserves to be saved and protected. He followed our believes and our oaths by saving his life." Axe pointed out "He is only a child, what harm could he bring?"

Dai Atlas seemed uneasy at this, looking guilty.

"Its not easy to say it, but he can bring a lot of harm. He was raised in the ways of war, and war is unforgiving, especially on the young ones. They either die early, or they learn to survive in the worst possible manners. To them, this is no child, this is a weapon, a future soldier, trained to not think for himself, to note care and just follow orders."

"He isn't like that though!" Wing's voice was suddenly louder, his need to defend his charge growing with every word he heard. "Drift isn't...he isn't mindless! He's ...quite the opposite actually, you need to gain his respect for him to even begin listening to you, he is smart, and talented, he just needs a chance to let it grow."

"Wing..." Dai Atlas started.

"No! You don't get to judge him yet, you haven't even met him. He is GOOD, I know it. I can see it in him, there is much good in there, he just needs proper guidence" He couldn't help but let his gaze fall on the recharging form, a fond smile reaching his lips. "He is full of light."

"Very well...I see there is going to be no point arguying with you..." Dai Atlas relented "But Wing...don't get too attached. Or too hopeful."

"I think it might be a little late for that" Axe pointed out as Wing moved in to pet Drift's finials with the softest caress. "They way you look at him...you've already taken him in, in your spark he is yours."

"Heh...maybe...We got to know each other a bit...not a lot, but enough, once he recovers his voice, I'm sure we will get closer."

Possibly recognizing Wing's touch, Drift began to stirr, his ruby optics stuttering online with some difficulty, Wing kneeled down next to the couch, so he could be more at his optic level.

"Hey Drift, relax, you're safe, you're okay." He began, the same words he would give him every morning now, soft reassurances, guiding the young processor into full awakefulness. "You gave me a big scare, running away like that..." Drift's memory must have caught on, because he let out a little gasp and looked alarmed, maybe even a bit guilty before backing as far as he could into the couch. "No no, its okay. I'm not mad, Redline might be a bit grumpy with you but he won't be mad either, it was our fault. We should have woken you up instead of trying to sedate you in your sleep, I'm sorry. We only meant to spare you of the stress." He apologized earnestly.

To Wing or Drift, it wasn't very obvious, but two the elder creators in the room, they looked on in surprise at how they communicated. There were slight twitches of Wing's helm flares, his voice was borderline crooning like a carrier's would to their young. Drift himself, despite being reluctant, relaxed enough to listen, his audial fins perking up or going down with Wing's reassurances, His optic brightness would adjust accordingly, still showing his distress, but becoming significantly more under control the more Wing spoke to him.

"It's okay. No one is going to punish you, you didn't do anything wrong, but please don't ever leave like that again, you worried me sick. And look at you, you got so wet and cold its like you're falling ill again. And here you were getting well enough to have your vocalizer fixed...wouldn't that have been nice? To be able to speak again?"

The white and black youngling scoffed, crossing his arms defiantly and looking away with a scowl. 

Despite the atittude, Wing only smiled patiently, reaching over to pull the towel back onto his shoulders.

"You can act tough all you want, but I know you want it back."

Despite his apparent reluctance, Drift slowly looked back at him, scowl still in place, but he conceeded with a tiny sideways nod of his head.

At this point, Dai Atlas and Axe it was safe enough to intervene, there for, Dai Atlas cleared his vocalizer, which to Drift nearly sounded like a menacing growl and he instantly snapped his attention to the larger mech, optics widdening and paling slightly in alarm, subconsciously he made to move so that Wing would be in between them.

"Ah, right. Drift? These are my creators, Dai Atlas" and he gestured to the massive mech with a scowl of his own. "and Axe." he then gestured to the more friendly looking, albeit still intimidatingly big mech. "They were the ones to find you and take care of you until I found out where you had ended up at." Drift's optics switched to Wing only for an astro klik before returning to the two unknown mechs warily. Wing's suspicions seemed more and ore evident the longer they saw the youngling's behavior.

Sensing he wouldn't relax easily, and that there was no point trying to get him to, Wing moved to sit next to the youngling, pulling him close against the side of his frame in a side hug, with the excuse that he could rub the towel on his frame a little to warm him up.

"They are the ones in charge of the city we're in, I had meant to give you a better introduction than this, but I suppose there is nothing for it now. They've agreed" and he gave Dai Atlas a sharp glare when his Sire decided to let out a displeased hum "to let you stay with me, officially, for now.  You will be my charge while here and being fixed will be a little easier now as we can just take you to the hospital."

Drift looked a little confused at this, and it took wing a moment to understand that he wouldn't know what a hospital was. "Ah, well, its like a..."

"A Medical ward, the medbay in the army" Dai Atlas supplied "Where the injured go to get fixed." 

Understanding dawned on the young faceplates, and he inched just a little closer to Wing's frame, pulling the towel's back up on top of his helmet a bit, using it like a hood.

"It's okay Drift, if anything, whatever they have to do to fix you will be easier, less painful there." Wing tried to reassure, although that didn't seem to do much either. "And I'll be with you the whole way, okay? You have nothing to fear around me."

Red optics looked up at him uncertainly from underneath the hooded towel, a pure fragility reflected on them there: hope.

"Anyway, I think you've had enough excitement for today, Dai Atlas, Axe, again I am sorry for all the trouble, I did intend to talk to you about this eventually. Perhaps another time we can speak more at lengh, but right now I think its best I got him back home and in the berth."

"Of course lad" Axe sad, patting his only creation's shoulder with no short amaunt of affection "Call us if you need anything."

Wing smiled, patting the hand before moving to pick up Drift off the couch, who let out a tiny hiss that would have once probably been a squeak.

"Yes, travel safely back, and we will certainly speak more at lengh later." It wasn't even a soft suggestion, it was an order, Wing felt it in the words spoken. He knew there was no backing out of it, but he was willing to go through it for Drift, he would fight for the youngling.

"I'll see myself out then, have a good rest of the evening, and thank you once more." he said with a short bow, so as to avoid dropping Drift who clung to his armor losely.

With that, they left the house, and Wing walked for a while more in silence, the rain had stopped, but the streets were still empty, everyone prefering to stay sheltered in their homes. The white jet looked pensive, his field was difficult to read and pulled tight, and even though Deadlock was clinging to him, he had a hard time reading it.

"I hope you know..." he finally spoke, halfway on their way home "I wouldn't let any harm come to you. You may be my charge officially now, but even before that, I saw you as such. No matter what, I will protect you, I won't ever let anyone harm you again, understand? " Deadlock said nothing, merely observing the elegant white jet as they kept going, trying to gauge just how serious he was. 

Perhaps there was more to Wing than he had given him credit for.


	10. Vocabolary

It had taken a lot of convincing, and maybe even a bit of goodie blackmailing, but eventually the next day, Wing had managed to take Drift to the hospital, where a very grumpy Redline agreed to see through his repairs.

Drift had made it hard to give him the sedative, and took his time fighting it off until it finally claimed him. Once he was out of it, Wing had been shooed out to the waiting room, where he was now. 

He wasn't particularly concerned of the operation going wrong, it wasn't high risk, and not only was Redline a good medic, he had others there to help him. It was significantly safer than doing it in his apartment anyway. 

So why was he nervous? He couldn't sit still, at first he had paced, but when he noticed it was annoying others waiting there as well, he reluctantly sat down, and instead bounced his knee impatiently. 

That sweet young face kept coming back to his memory, probably looking more child like than it actually was, just to make his conscious more nervous. Drift would not smile, but his ruby optics would sparkle with that tiny hope he'd seen, the trust that was slowly being built.

He pondered for a while, how it came to this, how things had gone so far, and what he should do in the future. He certainly intended to register Drift in school, give him a bit of an education at least, improve his writing maybe. But he had to get the young one acclimated to civilian life first. As sad as it made him, he had to admit Drift wasn't ready to be among other normal younglings: he was jumpy, aggressive, always on edge. And that was just what he could tell for now, he was sure once they actually got to talking, he would find many more problems, primarily with his morals and his social awareness.

He would likely never be a normal youngling, not even a normal mech, but Wing would try and give him as much normalcy and peace as he could, and by Primus did that youngling need to learn peace of mind. Perhaps it wasn't too early to teach him some meditation techniques, maybe even some katas to spend his extra energy.

Spiritualism might be good to introduce him to as well, but perhaps he would leave that for a little later and just slowly start introducing him to it. He wanted the youngling to make his own choice about his religious beliefs.

There was the tell tale hiss of the door opening, and for the millionth time Wing looked up with hope for news. This time he was rewarded, as Redline came out looking calm and satisfied.

"Ah, Wing. It all went well, he's still out for a little while, but you can go stay with him until he wakes up, he's in room eleven, and he is not to leave until we check him over when he wakes up. " he instructed.

"I- yes of course. Thank you, I'll make sure he doesn't even leave the berth until you come by."

"Good, oh and Wing? We took the opportunity to fix some of the other things, small cosmetics really, most of it was superficial, we will deal with the more invasive scans another time, nothing seems to be particularly stressing at the moment, so I think we can afford it. We did notice however that his optics weren't in a great shape so we went ahead and fixed those up, replaced the lens."

"Ah, right,  thank you. I'm sure he'll be grateful for that, in his own way. I will talk to you later then?"

"Later it is, go and watch over your youngling." He said, hitting him with his note pad in a friendly manner to shoo him off.

Wing bid him farewell with one of his disarming grins and trotted off to the appointed room. Even though he was told Drift would still be asleep, he opened the door gently, trying to be quiet, and there he was, his youngling was resting on his side on a medberth, a blanket covering most of his body, though he appeared to have kicked part of it in his sleep already.  
As wing approached, he noted the restful expression on the young face. His cheek guards had been replaced by more customary models, square with some vents to facilitate the higher functions installed on the head. As sad as he was to see those cute unusual cheeks go, he was sure this would end up being the healthier option.

Some other parts had been changed: as far as he could tell the chest had been replaced, revealing he had four biolights underneath which now were working as headlights, his overly bulky shoulders were reduced to a better size, they weren't small or skinny, but they were appropriate for someone of Drift's build type.

His tiny hands had gotten some work, most of the scarring and damage was gone, though he was sure there were still quite a lot underneath in the inner workings, but at least the claws were gone now, that would make it a lot easier to deal with him if he couldn't pierce through a mech's armor with those.

His finnials were still there, and for that he was glad, they were however repaired and given new cover armor, as the old had been bent and worn, as if someone had the habit of twisting them.

He let out a vent of exhaustion, settling into the guest chair next to the berth, for the next hour and a half he set there, taking in all the new details, noting the tiny micro expressions Drift would make in his sleep. 

Finally, he heard the tell tale sound of systems booting up,  Drift's biolights gradually turning on and his face twisting to one of discomfort.

Blue optics slowly blinked on, looking unfocused and drowsy, but searching, as soon as they spotted Wing, they fixated, and some tension left the young one's frame.

"Hey there..." He whispered as softly as he could, leaning closer. Drift's arm shifted under the covers, coming out clumsily seeking touch, he smiled and took the hand in his, giving it a small squeeze. " You're all right, everything went well, RedLine did some fixing around your frame, you a little different, but nothing major. The most important part is that your vocalizer should work now, but take it easy, let it turn on naturally, I imagine its protocols will  be a little sluggish."

Drift gave a small nod at this, rubbing his new cheek plating against the soft pillow, as if enjoy that sensation. Wing waited with him patiently, until he heard a tell tale crackle and a click, signalling the vocalizer was being rebooted.

Wing felt a rush of excitement, but saw that Drift was quite in the opposite position, he seemed reluctant, shy maybe, his optics started to dart to no where in particular, avoiding him.

"Can you maybe tell me hello? I'd love to be properly introduced." Wing encouraged, to which Drift even flinched a little, slowly, curling himself a little bit more, he mumbled a small "hello"

It was difficult for wing to restrain himself, he wanted to squee, to grab him and hug him tenderly, and pinch his cheeks and cover him with all the love and appreciation he could, he still couldn't keep his wing tips from flaring out and flutter.

Drift's voice was small, a bit rough with emotion, there was an experience in it that you normally wouldn't hear from someone his age, but it was still  not mature, though he guessed it wouldn't belong before it did as it was going from a higher younger pitch to a more handsome grown up one.

Wing pet his helmet kindly, reading the tight field that he was trying so hard to keep hidden and noting the stress, the embarrassment, the fear even and pushed his own to it, giving it all the warmth, love and reassurance he could, showing just how much he appreciated and approved the effort.

 "Hello Drift..." He told him in turn, nuzzling  the space between Drift's helm crest and his finnial in reassurance. "Redline will be by soon, he's just going to do a small check on you so that I can take you back home, then we can leave this stinky place." There was some appreciation and gratitude in the young field, which loosened a tiny bit.

 " I feel weird." Drift complained, starting to take note of the changes to his frame.

" I imagine you would, they had to replace some of your armour and do small repairs."

He watched the youngling explore his own frame, taking note of all the differences, some things he seemed pleased with, like how one of his shoulders no longer creaked when he moved it, but others like his claws not being present anymore, he seemed upset about.

After a while there was a knock on the door, and Wing went to open it, letting Redline come inside.

"Good, you're awake" The medic said once he saw Drift sitting up on the berth " Wing I trust you kept your word?"

"He's been behaving perfectly so far" Wing confirmed " We were just trying out his new vocalizer, weren't we Drift?"

Drift gave a reluctant nod, his optics not moving from Redline, his frame language had gone back to defensive, which wasn't too surprising to be honest, after the whole ordeal the previous day.

"I see, well then Drift, I'll try and make this quick for the both of us, we just need to check some things: your vocalizer and your reflexes, lets st-"

"Frag off medic"

The sentence was said with such vile intention that both grown ups froze, staring with their optics wide in shock. 

"I'm sorry...did you just...?"

"Yeah, I told you to shove a rusted pipe up your-"

"DRIFT!" Wing's interruption was enough to silence the mechling, the jet hurrying to the youngling, field a mixture of disappointment, worry, anger and anxiety. "I'm SO sorry Redline, I didn't think- he was talking perfectly fine earlier!"

Redline waved him off " Oh please don't, you'd be surprised at how many mechs throw insults like that at their physicians. Might want to teach him to hold his glossa though, don't want him going off like that one someone like Dai Atlas for example"

Wind felt faint at the mere idea, it was a terrifying thought, and it was mark Drift as a problematic child in Dai Atlas's optics forever if that were to happen.

"R-right." He turned back to his charge, which far too pleased with himself "Drift, please, don't _ever_ talk like that to anyone ever again, you understand me? I don't want you going around saying those things"

"I can say what I want" Drift responded far too promptly, his tone grumpy, he refused to look back at Wing.

"No, no you cannot." Wing said more firmly this time, getting in between his charge and a far too amused Redline. " You are a youngling, and such language is not meant for you, and even as an adult I would sincerely hope you did not use it. Understood? That kind of language will only land you in trouble and make others dislike you, maybe even provoke them."

"I know" Drift said, with a tone that clearly indicated that had been his full intention. 

" And it also hurts" Wing added, reinforcing his resolve. Interestingly enough that seemed to cause a flicker of hesitation in the youngling's field, so he tackled it, leaning down so he was optic to optic with Drift, who looked away, unable to keep the gaze. "Do you understand me? You not only hurt Redline, but you hurt _me_ as well. Do you want that?" Drift was quiet, his optics dimming to almost looking like they were off. "Do you want to talk to me like that? Come on, do it then. Say to me exactly what you were about to say to Redline."

Drift actually shrunk in his spot a little, looking guilty and scolded, his finnials were as low as they could go, and although he was trying to keep the farce of looking angry, Wing saw how much he was uncomfortable and regretting his decision now. He stepped back, straightening back to his full height. 

"That's what I thought, now apologize to Redline."

"What?!No!" Drift nearly let his voice go a higher pitch in his indignation, it was as if Wing had in turn told him the highest insult.

"You will apologize to Redline for being rude to him when all he's done for you was be patient and fix you up." Wing insisted, only to have that youngling glaring at him defiantly again, oh was that a heated glare.

"No. We don't apologize. Especially not to medics" he said, throwing a sneer at Redline.

The poor medic, just let out an exasperated vent, patting Wing's shoulder nacelle. "Don't kill yourself over it Wing, we'll let it slip this time around. So long as he doesn't try to bite me or anything else while I examine him." Redline said, giving the youngling a look, which was responded with a glossa stuck out at him.

Wing made a sound with his vocalizer and glared, making Drift stop and readjust his seating so that when Redline came over, he'd have an easy way to escape if he needed it. Redline let him have it, in exchange of letting him examine the throat cables and the vocalizer box, as well as the optics.

"All right, everything seems to be going well, I'm assuming there's no pain going on, so lets just test your reflexes really quick and you can go."

"My reflexes are fine." Drift challenged, puffing his small chest with pride.

"Mhm, I'm sure of it, but I still need to check them." The medic said patiently, indicating for his floating drone to start. It shone a light at Drift, who squinted his optics at it, engine growling slightly. "Now, follow the drone's light with your optics, good, good, I see no problems there..."

It really only took a few kliks, they noted how quick to react Drift was, likely born out of growing up in a hostile environment, but there was something more to it, he wasn't just blindly turning his head to sounds, he was thoughtful, considered his actions and reactions, maintained an eerie calm. That was a talent.

At last, Redline stepped back, and Drift was back to glaring daggers at him, but he didn't seem to care,instead turning to address Wing.

" Well, he seems to be doing fine, I see no abnormal lethargy between his processor and his basic cognitive systems other than the expected sluggishness from the sedative, although really you wouldn't be able to say that was present anymore with how well he did. Make sure he gets plenty of rest, no abusing the new vocalizor, and I'll see you for the next set up in a week."

"A week?!" Drift piped up.

"Yes of course." Wing told his friend, before turning to his charge "we need to come back later so they can do more thorough scanning of your systems and processor, we didn't want to do it all on the same day."

"I don't need a full systems scan" Drift argued,trying his best not to pout.

"Yes, yes you do. You've had drugs in your systems for Primus knows how long, you just went through the withdrawal phase not too long ago, and you are still a little ill. You need a full systems check." Wing pointed out, reverting back to his more patient and calmer self, he knew this was just Drift being afraid and defensive, no actual malice was in it.

When he didn't argue again, Wing took that as his cue to come closer, resting his hands on the other's arms and rubbing them soothingly. 

"All will be well, I will be there with you the whole way, all right? " He didn't get an answer, but he felt the youngling's field relax a little " How about we go home now hm? I think you've had enough of the hospital for now right?" a small nod " Do you want to walk or should I carry you?"

"I can walk."

"Very well then." Wing said,helping him hop off the berth. He was a little unsteady on his pedes at first, but he got through it with his stubbornness and pride and walked to stand next to Wing. "Thank you, and again I apologize RedLine..."

"Don't worry about it so much, expect him to be abrasive like that with people at first."

"Right...sorry. We'll be going then, Drift?"

"Right next to you" the youngling drawled as if bored and fed up with his guardian already, his arms crossed and hip cocked to the side showing his rebelious attitude.

"So you are." The winged mech agreed, leading the way home.


End file.
